Sunday, December 21, 2008

Wasting Makeup

When I was in high school (continuing into my 20's) my girlfriends and I always ritualized the motions we went through in order to get ready for a date. "Putting on ones face" was a euphemism for putting on makeup---you know, foundation, eye shadow, blush and mascara---all the things required to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. If the date was made during the week, countless hours were spent talking about what should be worn, etc. The entire group participated in this rather juvenile behavior. If the date turned out to be a jerk who stood a friend up, we were there for that, too. We waited with the member of the group who was going on the date (or not). If the guy said he would pick her up at 7:00 and it was going on 8:30, it was time to pack it in and forget about Mr. Wondeful showing up. It was still early enough to go out and have a girl's night though. We had a quaint turn of phrase for those who held out until the last possible moment. We called it "wasting makeup". Most of us back then were on an allowance (or later when we had jobs, they were of the restaurant or department store variety) and money was scarce. It seemed impractical to waste good makeup on a guy who was not going to show up.
When I got into the spanking scene, I caught myself on several occasions engaging in the same behavior I used to loathe myself for as a teenager. Most of the men who play with me have to travel fairly long distances to get together with me and sometimes, for whatever reason, we don't connect as we'd planned. I have only been stood up on two occasions in almost six years of doing this and it's a record I'm proud of. Both times, I sat and waited either by the phone or in a restaurant until it was obvious nothing was going to happen that day. And I always found it a bit sad that good makeup had to be wasted that way.
This week, I had two play dates planned. One for Wednesday and one for Thursday. Both of my dates cancelled due to the horrible weather we were having. Wednesday was particularly disappointing as I felt it was a waste of not only good makeup, but a nice job of applying it as well. I had outdone myself in that department. However, there was always the next day and I sort of foolishly felt optimistic. I made plans with the Thursday date about a week before and we had a couple of very enthusiastic chats about all the fun things we were going to do. Imagine my surprise when I don't hear a peep from him. Cigi and I had something that popped up that morning that had to be taken care of. I had neglected to get his phone number from him but he had mine. I thought as it got to be late and I still wasn't at the restaurant where we'd planned to meet, he would call and ask what was up. But he never called. I didn't hear from him at all that day. Again, I was disappointed because you know, makeup doesn't grow on trees.
Yesterday, he left me an offline message apologizing because a storm had left him without power and he'd had to purchase a generator (not a cheap buy, I can assure you). We made plans to meet after the Holidays. Hopefully, no makeup will get wasted then.
So ladies, I guess the lesson to be learned from this is that just because your date stood you up is no reason to let perfectly good makeup go to waste. Call some friends and have dinner and a movie. Lift each other's spirits when it happens because it can be a tremendous blow to the ego, especially if you never hear from the guy again. If you're lucky, while you're out tending to your wounded pride, you just might meet someone who will make that makeup job worth the trouble.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

How Was YOUR Week?

I have mentioned before that I live in an apartment. There are twelve apartments in my building. We all manage to live together relatively peacefully (when we aren't backing into each other's cars, that is). Now I want to warn the reader right now that this is probably going to turn into a rant and probably won't have anything (or very little) to do with spanking.

The week got off to a pretty bad start for us. We discovered that Cigi is going to have to have knee surgery to repair a torn meniscus in her left knee. The surgeon assured us her condition wasn't serious, but the surgery would alleviate her pain and allow her to return to work. Well, OK, I can live with that.

Tuesday we were leaving to meet a new spanko friend for breakfast when we accidentally backed into the car of another person who lives in the building. Now because I don't drive, part of my job is to be Cigi's extra pair of eyes. She was clear as a bell so she began to ease out of the parking spot. Next thing I knew BAM! We had hit another car. Cigi got out of the car, apologizing profusely. The young man seemed pretty laid back about the whole thing (probably because he knew he was at least partly at fault). The two exchanged insurance cards and phone numbers and realized that they both had insurance with the SAME company. I don't know what will happen now.

Wednesday Cigi informed me that she didn't want to do a big Thanksgiving dinner. We have what's commonly referred to as a "galley kitchen"; meaning maybe two people can fit in it at the same time and might be able to cook a meal in it if they time their turns and whatnot so as not to bump into each other. Needless to say, I was disappointed. We had done the big Thanksgiving dinner last year (the first year since her cancer was diagnosed that she felt like doing the "big spread") and it had turned out very nicely. If memory serves me, we only got in each other's way a couple of times. But since I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, I hid my disappointment and asked her what she would like instead. She wanted a pot roast. OK, no problem there. I love pot roast no matter what day of the year it is. Of course, when I woke up the next morning and smelled all the turkeys cooking in the neighboring apartments, my disappointment returned momentarily. It was soon gone however as we sat down to a wonderful meal.

Friday was what is commonly referred to in retail circles as Black Friday. It usually means that a store will be profitable for the year if sales are high enough. Us retail workers call it that for another reason. First of all, I had to get up out of a warm bed at 4:15 because I had to be at work at 5:30. I work in a home improvement store in a strip mall...a strip mall that contains a Target store and is banked on one side by a Best Buy store. You can imagine what the lines looked like. Later, we learned that a man in New York had been trampled to death by "out of control" shoppers at a Wal-Mart there. Shoppers reportedly stepped over the man's body to get inside the store to shop, despite the fact that police had closed the store because it was a crime scene. The greed of people at this time of year never fails to make me shake my head.

Sunday we had our first snow of the year. We had five inches of accumulation. The plows and salt trucks didn't get out until Monday morning. When I went to work, having to take the long way because of two accidents on the street where I live, we discovered that many of the main roads hadn't been plowed or salted yet, despite being designated as emergency snow routes. The next morning, a front page article in our local paper patted the Department Of Public Works for the "great" job they did with the snow. It was five inches of snow during which there were dozens of accidents and three people died. I am cringing at what will happen when that first blizzard hits...the kind that dumps a foot and a half of snow on us. It's coming, believe me.

After having a crummy day at work, during with countless of customers yelled at me because we ran out of shovels, all I wanted to do was go home and take a soak in a hot bath. But I had laundry to do. We stopped at the store to get stuff to make spaghetti for supper and got some gas. It took over an hour because the store and gas station were crowded with people all acting like they were caught in Donner Pass. It was five inches of snow, people. Get a grip. You aren't going to get snowed in with no way to get supplies and groceries.

When we got home, Cigi put the food on and I got a load of laundry together. When I got downstairs, this was what I saw:

I went back upstairs and ate my dinner in silence. All of the planets were aligned against me, it seemed. Boy, I hope next week is better.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Dazed And Confused

While reading Devlin O'Neil's blog tonight, Gwen touched a nerve with me. She was talking about a "near miss" she had with one of her older brother's friends. Luckily (or is that unluckily) she escaped the situation unscathed and unspanked. I posted a response to her post in which I briefly described a similar close call at a keg party my freshman year. It was autumn, 1975 and I was a 14-year-old freshman at Central High School. In those days, there were definite "class distinctions". Seniors simply did not mix with freshmen. They didn't even talk to them unless it was necessary (like coming into their algebra class and handing them a call slip from the dean...but that's another story). Anyway, my friends and I found out about this party totally by accident. My friend, whom I'll call Beth, had a nasty habit of listening in on her big sister's telephone conversations. Her sister was a senior and dating a guy on the wrestling team. So Beth, Cigi and I and a few other braves souls decided that we would infiltrate this bastion of seniorship and attend. It was a brisk fall evening and there were a lot of people there. This took place at a very well known state park here in Illinois and there was a pretty good crowd when we arrived. The bonfire had already been lit. Just beyond the first bank of picnic tables, the kegs were set up along with stacks of plastic cups. Some people brought blankets and camp stools. The air was thick with smoke and loud music.
Now, I could go on and on about this, but it's not the real reason for my post. All of this reminiscing has me thinking about that great '70's coming-of-age flick, "Dazed And Confused". The pic above is a still from the film and many movie fans will recognize Ben Affleck as the dude holding the rather menacing looking paddle. The film came out in 1993, very early in Mr. Affleck's career. The movie takes place on the last day of school, 1976. The incoming freshmen are hazed unmercifully by the seniors. I loved this film but all of the paddling is male on male. One of the cutest scenes in the movie involves the older sister of Mitch (the kid with the longer hair in the pic) going to one of the seniors and asking him to take it easy on her little brother. Of course, the guy promises (and we are treated to slow motion shots of him wearing this poor kid out later in the film) and as she turns to walk away he gives her behind and playful but solid smack with the paddle he's holding. When she protests by squealing "Ouch!" her friend says "You know you love it."
Unless you were in high school in the '70's this film might not appeal to you. And as a "spanking film" of course, it fails. But it's easy to feel sorry for the poor freshman boys who seem to be getting "busted" at every turn.
And I have t0 say to anyone who hasn't seen the film that the girls are even nastier than the boys when it comes to hazing the incoming class of freshman girls.
The soundtrack rocks even if some of the songs were old even in 1976. Still, all the expected groups are represented---KISS, Aerosmith, Peter Frampton, Ted Nugent, and The Runaways, among others.
This film is a pretty accurate representation of the era. There were no cellphones in 1976. There were no video games (a rather rousing game of foozeball is shown). There was no text messaging (thank God!). And if you wanted to sit up front in a car, you had to call "Shotgun!". I get a little misty eyed and sentimental when I view this film. Probably the previous generation felt the same way about "American Grafitti". For those of us who enjoy a good paddling scene, this one offers a few. Would I rather see Ben Affleck swing his mean paddle on a girl? Yes, I would. But, as with most things in life, you can't have everything. Still, for spanking fans, this one sort of fits the bill. For people who survived the '70's, you might find yourself smiling knowingly at similar incidences in your own teenage years.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

"Beautiful People"

The Beatles asked the musical question "How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?" some forty years ago. I was reminded recently about this little turn of phrase a few days ago while chatting with someone I have never met. He wanted to know if I had done anything interesting over the previous weekend and I mentioned that I had been in Chicago at the Crimson Moon party. I thought he would be full of questions about the party scene since I'm pretty sure he's never been to one. He asked only one question, though---"Anyone cute show up?"
Now I could have handled that a couple of different ways. I could've said 'Well, of course someone cute showed up. I was there, wasn't I?' Or I could've said "We're all cute, you dummy." Instead, I said "You mean like a model? No, nothing like that." He went on the explain to me that he's picky about who he plays with. Apparently, it doesn't matter if the woman is safe, she just has to be cute. On that note, our chat pretty much ended. So this got me to thinking....
We like to say that we're accepting and tolerant of others. Even those who have preferences when it comes to playing. If a person requires their partners to be "height/weight proportioned" or "fit" how is that different from saying they have to be attractive? I've seen many people list non-smokers and drinkers as preferences when it comes to play partners. Is that so different from having an appearance requirement? After I got over being mad at him, I realized something. People have the right to their preferences. We may not like them. We may think the man is a pig for saying his partners have to be cute. But if a man's enjoyment of a scene hinges on whether or not his partner looks like Samantha Woodley, then that's his right. I would tell him that he's missing out on fun company by limiting himself this way, but, hey, if that's what he wants, who am I to say otherwise? I also have preferences when it comes to play partners. But a preference is a far cry from a requirement. I never limit myself to only playing with those I find attractive. In fact, I've played with people that others would probably classify as good looking and they turned out to be a waste of my time. I should note that this guy I was chatting with is younger than I am and probably at least partly into the scene for sex. Otherwise, just having a willing woman over his knee (no matter what she looks like) would be a big thrill for him. And he probably doesn't have a lot of experience either. He probably gets most of his experience from watching videos---those half-hour re-enactments of "real" scenes, usually starring young cuties like the aforementioned Ms. Woodley. And that's where he developed his taste for "cute" spanking partners. This is just a hypothesis, but I think it's probably pretty close to the truth.
So what should I have told this guy? To each his own? Come back when you grow up? Have a good time waiting for a model to show up? I think he was insulted when I asked him if the women he spanks have to be cute. But really, I wasn't. To be honest, it's pretty indicative of the attitude I encounter among younger men. They are mostly hung up on looks and appearances. They are inundated with gorgeous women on TV who really bear no resemblance to "real" women. By that I mean the average woman who wears a size 14 (or higher) and who, like me, has to use dye to cover her rapidly increasing gray hair and who doesn't spend a fortune having her nails done or going to a tanning spa. I mean "real" women who, between the times when she has to punch a time clock and go to the grocery store and do the laundry, likes to get spanked. Some men actually appreciate a woman who can juggle her vanilla life and her scene life. Now please don't get me wrong. Don't get the impression that I'm another middle aged woman going on a rant against young people. I'm not jealous of young people, OK? I wouldn't want to be 22 again for all the money in the world. I'm just saying this man I chatted with was a little lacking in the maturity department. Do I think he'll look me up again to chat? Highly doubtful. Am I disappointed? Maybe a little because I might have missed an opportunity to make a friend. And don't we all need as many of those as we can get?

Thursday, November 6, 2008

October Party-Part II

I woke up Saturday morning with an extremely sore bottom. I went to the mirror and examined it closely for bruises or other marks, but aside from a few places where the skin looked scuffed, nothing. I was sort of disappointed and relieved at the same time. The better shape your butt is in the second night of a party, the more play you can get in. Since Cigi and I hadn't been that impressed with the breakfast the hotel serves when we were there in July, we passed on it. Instead, we heated up some Lean Cuisines. I told you, we live off those on these weekends LOL.
After breakfast, even though I didn't have my party clothes on and was feeling a bit scruffy, I decided to see if anyone wanted to play. To my delight, I ran into "Tex", the man who had given my friend her first party spanking the night before. He was more than happy to try some of my new toys on me. Because I forgot to put the Do Not Disturb sign out, as often happens, Cigi came into the room just when Tex was getting out the canes. Since he has a great sense of humor and doesn't mind those kinds of things, he let her stay and even humored her while she shot some video of him caning me. I think she was a little mad that I didn't play up for the camera. I usually get very quiet when getting caned. When the scene ended, I decided to take a shower and get my party clothes on. Now, I had just had a pretty hard scene that involved all of my favorite toys, especially straps and canes. Why did I think taking a hot shower was going to be a good idea? My decision to take a shower had come right at the end of the scene, not an hour later. As soon as the hot water hit my bottom, I knew it had been a very bad idea. I'm not a "jumper" (someone who reacts dramatically to pain) but I did bounce around the shower a little. I was also thinking about a story my new buddy (the one we had driven up with) had told me the night before during our session about a woman he knew who literally died from being spanked. Apparently, she had been paddled extremely hard and then decided to soak in a very hot bath for an hour or so. The hot water, the blood from the bruises on her butt and the drugs she'd been taking all combined to start a chemical reaction in her body that made the fat in her buttocks begin to break down. I guess some of the broken down fat traveled to her lungs or something and she died. So I was beginning to think 'Am I going to die now?' I know it seems absurd because our situations were totally different. First of all, I wasn't doing drugs. Secondly, I was in a shower, not a bath. And third, I wasn't going to stay in long enough for any chemical reaction to occur. This was just a totally irrational thought on my part. And I was somewhat unnerved. After my shower, I gave my bottom some nice body lotion to help soften out the hard spots I still had even after eight hours of sleep. I took out the clothes I had planned to wear that day and realized that my 100% cotton shirt had wrinkled considerably despite the extra precaution of hanging it up as soon as I unpacked. So I had to haul out the ironing board and iron that come with every suite. Thank God they do! I've said in a couple of other blog posts that I'm meticulous when it comes to my grooming and hygiene at parties. Now I know that my shirt was eventually going to wrinkle from being tucked and untucked during the course of the evening. But I wanted to walk into the party room that first time looking like someone who cared about her appearance. I ironed that shirt with all that was in me, even creasing the sleeves as my grandmother had taught me years ago when ironing was still something housewives did at least once a week. I tend to fret over my appearance. My hair, clothes and make up have to be "just right" before I'll leave the friendly confines of my hotel room. I don't know if this is just vanity on my part or if something in the way I was raised made me extra conscious of this. Anyway, whatever the reason, I worked on myself until I finally looked in the mirror, took a deep breath and said 'This is as good as it's going to get.' So off I went. The first person I played with was someone I hadn't played with in two years. He lives out east and so doesn't get to come to every party. He brought along a very sweet young lady this time. I don't know if she was a sub or if he was just mentoring her or what their relationship was. I didn't really want to ask because I was afraid the answer would be one of those tiresome "he's-helping-me-grow-and-become-a-better-person" type of explanations that I just don't have time to try and sort out. I'm not putting down anyone who is in a D/s or mentoring situation, believe me. Nor am I putting down people who do the mentoring. I think, for some people, it can really help. I just don't care for that aspect of the scene. At any rate, she was too shy to talk to anyone and would usually lower her eyes if someone caught her looking at them. She was very young, too and might have been a bit overwhelmed. This particular Top had been too worried about bringing toys on his flight to Chicago, so all he had besides his hand was his belt. Now I came to terms with belts as being part of the scene a long time ago. But for awhile, I just couldn't do them. There were just way too many bad memories there. Well, maybe not bad, but certainly unpleasant. I was surprised by how much we laughed and enjoyed ourselves during this session. The last time I had played with him, he'd struck me as uncommonly serious. Maybe that was just his mood at that time, but for whatever reason, he had totally lightened up and we had a great time. Man, can that guy swing a belt!
My next scene was also with a "belter". I don't know what it was (maybe something in the water?) but I saw a lot more belts at this party than I normally see. I don't know the reason for it. Maybe because a lot of the men wore costumes that seemed to feature them? Could be. Anyway, I went to this guy's room and as soon as I was over his knee, he said 'So...another naughty girl who needs a spanking!' I literally couldn't keep from laughing. I said 'Is that really the line you're gonna go with?' He said something like 'Well, it's true, isn't it?' And I had to say 'Look, I just get spanked because I love it...please don't ruin it for me by calling me a bad girl. I'm sure there are plenty of other women here who faint when they hear that, but I'm just not into scolding at all. So would you please just spank me and cut out the quasi roleplay?' I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but if he wanted to roleplay, he should've said so before we went to his room. He went out of his way to try to impress me with how hard he could spank. I got the impression that he didn't play like this very often because he was soon so out of breath he had to stop for a minute. Perhaps I was being punished for my quasi roleplay quip? I can't say for sure but although I enjoyed the session, I don't know that he enjoyed it that much. When he finally couldn't take anymore and ended our session, he helped me stand up and said 'You're hard work!' He wasn't laughing when he said it either. I thanked him for the session and headed back to the party suite. There I ran into my blogging buddy, Dr. Ken. Playing with him came about because the person I was looking for was nowhere to be found and Ken was right there. I had put Ken on my "must have" list for this party and was determined to stick to it, even if it meant he would be the last of the night before I went to bed. Now because I had just played and was still sore, we played pretty lightly. Ken isn't a bruiser and I don't mean that in a bad way at all. Ken knows I like to play hard and I know that that isn't really his style. But I enjoy his company so much and he spanks so nicely that I can never let a party go without playing with him (although it's happened more times than I want to admit). In the instances where we haven't been able to play, we have at least spent some time talking to each other.
As we walked back to the party suite, I could smell something wonderful cooking. It was beef stew made from scratch by our leader, a retired chef. I couldn't wait for dinner. I also played with a Dom friend of mine who I've known almost since the very beginning. He knows as long as he doesn't try to boss me around, we'll be fine. He also knows that when he's in the mood to really pound on someone, all he has to do is come find me and I will oblige him. He spanked, strapped, paddled and caned me incredibly hard and I didn't have any lasting marks to show for it. In some way that I'm sure will strike some as perverse, I miss the days when I marked. Now I think about the only way to leave lasting marks on me is to go right to the cane and skip the warm up, something I'm not willing to do no matter how much I want marks.
I met some very interesting new people at this party, most of them quite young. It really did my heart good to see this. I really thought our group was getting a bit old and a nice injection of youth can only help. I sat and had very pleasant conversation with them. But it only made me wish I had started in the scene when I was that young.
I sat and rested (really rested this time) and talked some more and pretty soon they were announcing that dinner was served. I couldn't wait to get my hands on that stew. For me, it's the ultimate comfort food. However, because I'm German, I had to pour my stew over bread and butter because the meal just wasn't starchy enough for me. The meal was hot and very satisfying. Of course, I think spanking is like swimming--you should wait at least 30 minutes after eating before doing it. So I went back to my room to get a drink and wouldn't you know it? Everyone and their kid brother was in our room, it seemed. It was almost like a public room. You couldn't get another person in the room with a shoehorn. People were stopping by to show their costumes and to see how the night was going for us. It was just very nice. We took some pictures and then I decided to see if I could find someone to play with me. I found a Top from Indiana who I hadn't played with in quite some time and asked him to play. He was dressed as a college professor in robe and mortarboard. We had a wonderful session in his room. I asked him if he had been playing a lot and he said he hadn't. This astounded me. An excellent Top like him and he wasn't playing very much? Why ever not? He told me in all seriousness that he's picky about whom he plays with and that me and Cigi are on the shortlist of ladies he will never turn down. To say that I was flattered was an understatement. I told him I appreciated the compliment. We shared a hug and he led me back to the public room. Just as I was rounding the corner, I saw another Top I had been anxious to play with. I had first met him at the July party and he had come down to Peoria the very next week to play with us. It had been a blast and I told him whenever it was possible, he was welcome to return. He asked me to play and I had to turn him down for the moment. I explained that I had just played hard and needed about a half hour to rest. He said he would come back then, but I had a funny feeling this was going to be one session that wasn't going to happen. At parties, things move at an unbelievable pace. He might find someone to play and then, when I'm fully rested and ready to play again, he might be tired from playing and need a rest himself. But precisely one half hour later, he peeked his head around the corner and asked if I was ready. Oh, was I ever! Of course, he used a mix of his toys and mine. He added something I hadn't felt before. Most of us who have felt this devilishly stingy toy simply call it the "bitch switch". It has another name, but I don't remember what it is. This thing is a small piece of very thing metal of some sort. You hold it up against the target and let it go. This thing is pure sting. Another Top is threatening to get one since he's seeing all the reaction it's getting from us brats. It did leave some very pretty marks though. I went back out to sit in the hallway on a row of chairs when someone told me Cigi had just gone off with one of our favorite Tops. I hadn't seen this guy since that morning when he had returned from shopping with his girl. I was dying to see his costume. About fifteen minutes later, Cigi came around the corner. She had a huge smile on her face, but admitted that this Top had ended her. It was time to call it a night. I wanted some of that and asked her what room he was in. She was so floaty she couldn't remember, but someone else supplied the room number and off I went. When I got to the room, I knocked on the door. His girl answered. She's an adorable lady although I don't know her very well. She informed me that her Sir had just finished off my sister. To which I replied 'I know. I came for the same thing.' He must have heard me because he came to the door, tipping his cowboy hat. 'Step right in, ma'am.' Yeah, I know it's corny but he was so cute I couldn't say anything. I admired his Stetson and the cowboy shirt he was wearing. He said he had gotten it from a real rodeo he had attended the previous month in Oregon. I had no idea he was a rodeo fan. He determined that I was already sufficiently warmed up (he made the old joke about frying an egg on it...again, corny but sweet) and began a very intense strapping that made me wish I had waited a little longer playing with him. It didn't last too long because he soon spotted blood and decided it was time to quit. I asked if it was bad and he inspected the damage and proclaimed the spots as minute. I asked his girl if she would please go to my room and get my first aid kit out of my purse. I even reached into my jeans, which were down around my ankles and gave her my key card. I never go to a party without my first aid kit just for this reason. She was only gone a second as we were right down the hall from them. This Top put some arnica on my bottom and fussed and fretted over the damaged he'd caused. I told him not to worry, it happened to me often. Then I told them both they had a standing invitation to come to Peoria anytime they wanted to and we would roll out the red carpet for them. They both seemed intrigued but I don't know if this will ever happen. I hugged them both and headed off to bed.
I was awake and had my breakfast and a shower before Cigi was even out of bed. We had decided to meet our ride by the elevators at 11:00 and as the time approached, I felt more and more like I didn't want to leave. Cigi shot a very cute short film while touring the room just before we left. We said our goodbyes the those that we ran into as we headed to the elevators to meet our ride. We hit the road on time and made good time getting home. We saw an SUV turned over in a ditch on the way home but that was the only damper to a perfect ride.
Now all I have to do is wait eight more days for the Our Need And Desire party. ON&D is run by my blogging buddy, Purple Angel. Of course, I'll write a full report on that weekend as well.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

October CM Party

Well, the October Crimson Moon party has now passed into history. As usual, I managed to have a great time! Cigi and I made arrangements a couple of months ago with a new guy in the group to ride up with him since my friend, Purple Angel, was sitting this one out. He came up on Thursday (a day early) and checked into a hotel that I recommended to him. It's a hotel I used to play at frequently, however we both agreed that playing at my apartment was a much better idea. I got home from work a little bit later than I wanted to, but I had to have a shower and change clothes since I had been in my work clothes all day. Cigi and I made plans to pick him up in the lobby of his hotel at about 6:30. When we pulled up, he was actually waiting outside for us. I think he worried we might miss him or he was just really anxious LOL. Anyway, we were talking so excitedly that Cigi missed her turn and we ended up taking the "scenic route" back to our place. Once we got there, we couldn't wait to show him our new toys, especially a couple of wood paddles that we had purchased recently. He loves paddles of any material I found out. After that was done, it was time to get down to business. This guy was a pretty awesome spanker, I'll admit. He realized that there was a party coming up and that I didn't want to arrive already marked up. So we played a bit lighter than I normally like to play. It was still fun. He spanked us both and then Cigi spanked him. It was a very nice evening but it ended too quickly. He had been driving most of the day and had another three hours' worth to do the next day, so he called it a night. We drove him back to his hotel and then went on a quick burger run. I hadn't eaten since about noon and my stomach was growling. Besides that, I usually am somewhat hungry after I play. It's pretty normal for me to want something to eat after a session. I was too excited to sleep, as usual. It was partly the weather's fault. It was unseasonably warm and I would throw my blankets off. Then a few minutes later, I would get cold again and put them back on. And on and on it went. We had set the alarm for 8:30 and once it went off, there was no hitting the snooze button. We had last minute things to do. We had to run to the bank and get some money for the party, then off to the pet store for a couple boxes of food for my babies. Then we stopped at the store for the Lean Cuisine dinners that would constitute the bulk of our diet during the weekend. Unfortunately, we forgot the Mountain Dew and had to make another stop before getting on the road. This always happens--we think we've thought of everything, but we always end up forgetting something. No matter how careful we are. We even downloaded and printed a pre-party checklist and still managed to forget something. The drive up was gorgeous, just a perfect fall day. It was warm and sunny, which of course, played havoc with my wardrobe choices. I had planned to wear sweaters both nights since we had had weather in the 40's the previous week (about the usual time I begin to think of what I'm going to wear). But that problem was quickly solved. At least I didn't forget anything important like the camera or my razor, which I have done. When we arrived at the hotel, Cigi had forgotten that it was a rather large hotel. She said she couldn't remember it being that big in July. Uh, Sis, they usually put us on the seventh floor LOL. We usually get the seventh and eighth floors to ourselves. There were other CMer's arriving at the same time we did. We hugged all of them and promised to make time to talk and play later. I love this time of a party--when everyone is dragging their luggage in and getting checked in. It's a nice reminder that the whole weekend is ahead of us.
Once we got to our room and got caught up with our "roomies", Cigi and I decided to take a quick rest. It turned out to be a very quick rest. No sooner had I laid down and got comfortable than Cigi said 'I'm not gonna be able to rest. I'm getting a shower.' You could already hear the familiar "party sounds" coming from across the hall. Who could sleep when someone was already giving out spankings?
Now I hate to admit this, but the first person I played with at this party was someone I usually end up playing with because he won't leave me alone until I do. He has been coming to parties for about ten years and he still hasn't grasped the concept that a bottom gets to choose whom she plays with. She isn't obliged to play with every person who asks. But I wanted to enjoy myself and I knew he would simply follow me around until I played with him. So I got it out of the way. The man is pleasant enough to talk to, but his technique leaves something to be desired. First of all, he spanks in that annoying left cheek-right cheek style that I really don't like because it puts me to sleep. Secondly, he doesn't spank hard enough for me. He's fine for a warm up though. I like to have fairly quick scenes at parties, but he had me there for 45 minutes. I finally had to ask him to finish up because I felt like if I didn't, I might spend the whole weekend there. He huffed a little, but complied with my request nonetheless. I think I'm going to have to stop playing with this particular guy because his attitude is beginning to grate on me. I think he knows that I prefer the harder spankers and it galls him a little. I think he was even more insulted when he saw me going off to play with someone else right away, without needing a rest. The next man I played with was someone I've known since my first party. We had a very enjoyable session in his room. He's a switch, but I think he's more of a submissive than a bottom. But he tops very well. He has a number of very interesting toys.
Next, I met some new friends I had been chatting with recently. This was her very first party and she looked extremely nervous. In fact, I wasn't so sure she wasn't going to pass out. She's really adorable, with a cute Irish accent. He's a handsome guy who I discovered spanks really well (read:hard). Cigi wanted the new girl to get some playtime so she made arrangements with one of our all-time favorite Tops. He and his wife came all the way from Texas for this party. Now I know that it says in the bylaws of CM that no one will pressure you to play if you don't want to. But I don't think what Cigi did constituted pressuring. In fact, the lady thanked her later because this guy is a wonderful spanker. I had my own session with him the next day. First off, the new lady watched while "Tex" spanked Cigi. He only used his hand and kept up a running commentary during the whole thing, explaining to her how party spankings usually go. She and the Top she was with had been playing for awhile so she wasn't new to spanking. She was just new to parties and getting spanked by others. Once "Tex" finished up with Cigi, he asked the new lady if she wanted him to spank her. Her Top stayed in the room, but Cigi and I left so they could be alone. A little bit later, I played with the new Top. He was a lot of fun and a complete gentleman. He only spanked me with his hand, but considering the wallop he packed, that was enough. We discussed playing again at some point during the weekend, but that never materialized. Unfortunately, that's a common occurrence at parties. You make plans to play with someone (or plans to play a second time) and it just doesn't pan out for whatever reason. I went back to my room to grab a soda and to rest for a few minutes. There was no one else there (a situation that didn't happen too often that weekend) and I sort of sat there basking in the peace and quiet. After about a half hour, one of my roomies came in with another Top and wanted to play so I left. As soon as I stepped into the hall, I spied a Top I wanted to play with. This guy was a relatively new discovery for me. He had been coming to parties for a few years now, but I had never played with him until the previous March. He wanted to try my new straps and wanted to try a new one he had bought since the last time we'd played. This guy has a lot going for him. He's fun, attractive, spanks really hard (if you want him to) and has a bunch of nice toys. He knows that I laugh a lot when I play and doesn't take it wrong the way some Tops do. He laughs along. He's becoming very popular and in great demand. I was lucky enough to play with him twice. After trying almost all of my toys and most of his on me, I needed a rest---a long rest. I have become very careful about who I play hard with. I used to just play hard with everyone, but I have been injured a couple of times by showoffs who didn't know what they were doing, so now I limit my really hard play to those who I know pretty well and who I know won't injure me (at least not on purpose). After a nice long rest, I played one more time before calling it a night. It was with a Dom friend of mine who knows that I'm not submissive and so we play the way I want to. He's always willing to oblige me. He also wanted to try some of my new toys on me. Believe me, they got a workout that weekend. I was pretty sore by the end of that session and becoming a bit sleepy so I headed back to my room for some shut eye.
Part two will follow shortly.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Confessions Of A Panty Freak

I chat with people from all over the country. As you can imagine, no two are alike. They all have things they love and things they hate. And things they are indifferent to, I've discovered. During the course of my many, many chats, I've come to the conclusion that some guys like panties more than others. Some WAY more than others. I've played with guys who treated my carefully chosen pair of panties as nothing more than a nuscence to be gotten out of the way. I've also played with guys who took some time to admire my taste in foundations before taking them down. Now until recently, I had been chatting with a gentleman from the west coast who took panty loving to a whole nother level. His profile said he was a switch so I decided to see if he wanted to chat. I got no response the first time so I shrugged and moved on. The next day, he left me an offline message telling me he would love to chat about spanking. In the course of our chats, I discovered that he was into a lot more than just spanking. He sent me photos of himself sitting on a cactus. Now I thought I was a pain puppy, but I would never in a million years go there. Not even on a bet. It wasn't the cactus that drew me to the picture. It was his pants...or panties to be more precise. They were vintage nylon panties with lace at the legs. Just adorable. He informed me that his panty fetish went back to his days in grade school. I didn't find out if he wore panties when he topped or not. Anyway, he stopped looking me up for chat because I'm apparently not voting for the right person.
Another form of panty freak is the kind who likes to give them away to women they play with at parties. We have one in CM and he keeps a box of them in his room apparently and allows the women he plays with to choose any pair they want. And, no, to my knowledge, you don't have to surrender the pair you were wearing previously.
I have also known a guy who keeps panties for women to model for him before he spanks them. I have never played with him so I don't have firsthand knowledge of this. But I have heard it from people I would have no trouble believing.
All of this lends itself to an observation--some guys like panties and some guys REALLY like panties. Either on you or on themselves. So what is it about them? Is it the softness of them as you spank that gorgeous bottom beneath? Is it knowing that soon the panties will come down and take their rightful place in the crook of some lady's knees? Is it being able to see the bottom you're spanking through them?
For me, I love finding nice panties that make my bottom look cute (no easy task, I assure you). I like interesting colors that you don't see everyday (like black, red, pink and white). I like knowing that most of the tops I play with will take a minute to admire the package I have so painstakingly wrapped. But I would like to get a take on this from a tops' perspective. There's a Crimson Moon party in nine days....gee, I'd better go buy some panties.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Fearless Spanking Seekers....Or Excuse Me, Your Hand Is On My Butt!

Today when I was at work, an incident occurred that I didn't quite know how to react to. I work in retail and part of the job (unfortunately) is going up to the return desk and collecting all of that day's impulse purchases. As I was wheeling my cart full of stuff back to my department, I saw a young couple standing in one of the check out lines. As I approached, the girl said something flip to the guy and he gave her a solid swat on the butt. This happened right as I was walking past. The guy looked at me somewhat derisively and said (with an attitude) "What's the matter with YOU? Haven't you ever seen a guy smack a girl on the butt before?" She giggled and chided him, but he was clearly thinking that I was offended by his behavior. If I hadn't been at work, I would have laughed and said something like "Young man, if you only KNEW!" As it was, my only response was to smile and continue walking.
Now, the reason I told this little story is because it got me thinking. As spankos, how often do we engage in behavior that is purely meant to elicit the kind of response that young couple got from me? The sort of behavior that tells onlookers "Yes, I get spanked and don't you wish you did?" For some reason, I sort of feel like everyone who doesn't get spanked is jealous of those of us who do. This probably isn't true, but I like to think that vanillas are missing out on something. I truly believe that spankos have more fun and LOTS more fun than their vanilla counterparts. Again, probably not true, but to us, spanking is the funnest thing there is. As a female bottom, I actively seek men to spank me. I suppose this is the same as a vanilla woman looking to get men to buy her jewelry and furs and tickets to the theater. The vanilla woman on the shopping spree probably thinks nothing in the world could top spending an entire day trying on shoes and jeans and checking out purses and other goodies. For me, the best days are ones spent getting spanked, being taken out to a nice dinner and then getting spanked some more. Now don't get me wrong. I like the shop as much as the next girl. But if I had to choose between a sale at Macy's or a visit from my favorite top, I would have to say that the sale at Macy's would be second choice to how I would rather spend it---draped over the lap of a top who is paddling me like crazy. Can shopping top that? I think not.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

Going over old emails that I have printed and kept over the years I've been in the spanking scene, it occurred to me that many of the first men to spank me have gone out of my life for one reason or another. I will never forget any of them for various reasons.
The first man to ever spank me as an adult has left the group we both used to belong to. It was at a Crimson Moon party. I was a very nervous newbie in March, 2003 when he and I first hooked up. The man I had chosen as my first sent me an email the day before the party with the doleful news that he was going to have to miss the party. From the wording in the email, it dawned on me that this man expected me to miss the party, too, since he (the world's best spanker in his opinion) wouldn't be there. But I wrote him back, telling him that, while I would miss him, I was going ahead with my plans to attend the party. The man who actually spanked me knew he was second choice, but he loved being a lady's first spanker. Cigi and I arrived at around 4 pm and by 4:30, this man had me over his knee. I was glad I got that first one out of the way. I know this is probably a bad way to look at it. I should have savored it for all it was worth. But I wanted to get on with other spankings and someone had to be first. I played unwisely at that first party and wore the bruises for six weeks. But I wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the world.
Another of my first spankers left me on rather bad terms last November. He wanted Cigi and I to come down to his place and spend the weekend of our birthday (New Years Day) with him. He first emailed me with the offer in September. At the time he first emailed me, I was under the weather with a bad case of bronchitis and an ear infection. It took about four or five days for me to get around to answering my mail. I told him I had no idea what my schedule would be at that time but that, when the date got a little closer, I would have a better idea. This wasn't good enough for him. He accused me of ignoring his emails and of being bored with him. Now, to be absolutely truthful, I was becoming bored with him. We first started getting together in May, 2003, right after the Peoria Spanking group was formed. Now this guy was an appearance freak. By this I mean that appearances are everything to him. He went out of his way to make sure that no one saw beneath his conservative, insurance man exterior. His home was neat as pin. I had never been in the home of a bachelor that was cleaner. My fussy grandma's house wasn't cleaner. Often, he would have either me or Cigi (whichever one he wasn't spanking) go outside and listen to make sure no one could hear the spanking sounds. He usually had music playing, a fan on, and often closed all the windows in summer. Not to mention the blinds were always pulled down and closed tight. He came to a couple of parties and was popular until he ruined it for himself. I won't go into the details here. I think Cigi already did that on her blog anyway. The main thing I remember about this guy was the superiority vibe I always got from him. He acted like touching me was a chore and he was afraid his hands would get dirty. He also was always throwing his college education in our faces, sometimes benignly (is that a word? LOL) and sometimes meanly. Finally, after about the fourth email in which he accused me of ignoring his email, I got my famous dander up. I shot off an angry response in which I called him a whiner and told him to get his issues sorted out. He sent me back an email asking me not to contact him again. It had the distinct feel of a business email to it. It hardly sounded like someone who had had me bare bottom over his knee times too many to count. Oh well...good riddance to him.
Another man I got together with for about a year got married. We met through Peoria Spanking and he informed me upfront that he had very limited experience. We chatted a few times and then made plans to meet. At the time, my vanilla brother and his family were living with us and we couldn't meet there. I had a wonderful friend who knew what we were into who gave me a key and said to use his house anytime we needed it during the day when he was at work. This guy was a switch and the first time we met, I absolutely refused to spank him, despite the fact that he drove for over an hour to get to Peoria. However, the next time we met, we drove back to his place and I did top him. I didn't enjoy it that much but I did it because he had driven so far. However, as time went on, I did start to enjoy spanking him. On one of our last weekends together, he took me to St. Louis to a weekend series between my beloved Cardinals and the Arizona Diamondbacks (or D-backs as they are called). The tickets and the hotel couldn't have been cheap. We went to the first game on Saturday (actually the second game of the series) and it was great. My Cardinals won 7-0 and the guy spent the whole night tawsing me with one of Ian's great tawses. The next day, when I saw the red plastic seat I was expected to sit on, I balked. I had to roll up my Cardinal jacket and sit on that. That Ian sure knows how to make toys! No wonder he's my favorite toymaker. The Cardinals had a chance to clinch the division that day, but they lost 3-2. However, I did get to meet some of the players before the game and spent the time fantasizing about being over their knees and being spanked by their big baseball player hands. I started a new job about a week later and he made a surprise appearance at my job. He took me home and spanked me wonderfully right before a play-off game. Had I known it would be the last time I would see him, I might have relished it more. Just a week or so later, he was chatting with Cigi when she asked if he could come to town and play but he gave her a terse "I don't think so". Poor Cigi was perplexed, to put it mildly. He told her he had met someone and that we would no longer be getting together. I was sad to lose this guy as a friend, unlike the insurance man. Apparently, his wife is vanilla and wouldn't tolerate him meeting other women for spanking play.
Another one I met at a Crimson Moon party moved to California and apparently forgot my phone number and email address. This guy was kind of special to me because he was one of the few who would spank me as hard as I liked. A lot of people just aren't comfortable spanking that hard. But he drove all the way from his home in a Chicago suburb to Peoria quite a few times to spank Cigi and I. His visits always included a nice lunch at the restaurant of our choice and occasionally discipline if we asked for it. He was the one who introduced me to the stone paddle and I fell in love with its distinctive sting. Plus he was very tall and I love tall spankers. It always makes me feel a little bit self-conscious to get spanked by someone who's smaller than I am. When he moved to California to change jobs, he became heavily involved in swinging and I guess lost interest in spanking.
Another one who has gone out of my life is a guy who lives in Kentucky. He was that guy who wrote me the day before my first party and punked out on me. We chatted or spoke on the phone almost everyday, despite the fact that he was often on the road because of his job. We finally did meet in July, 2003 at a Crimson Moon party. The first time I played with him, it was obvious that his style wasn't conducive to parties. He liked long sessions...two hours at least. When a party is one weekend and time is limited, two hours is an eternity. When I explained this to him, he told me (a touch arrogantly, I thought) "Someday you'll want quality over quantity." He came down to Peoria to help us celebrate our birthday. I wasn't working at the time and had endless free time to play (between bouts of job hunting, that is). He brought another girl with him who we knew from Crimson Moon. It was a fun day. One thing I remember about that day is that it was really cold and we took pictures that didn't turn out for some reason. That July party was the only one he made it to, though it's my understanding that he attends parties in other groups and hosts the occasional house party. We haven't seen him in about two and a half years. He has a girlfriend now so we can just get lost I guess. What happened to all that Southern gentleman "darlin'" stuff?
So now it's time to cultivate new spanking friends. Whether I ever meet any of these men is open to speculation. But chatting and sharing experiences is fun in itself. I also feel that blogging has broadened my horizons, too. Having said that, I want to thank Mr. Richard Windsor for giving me permission to add a link to his fantastic blog to this one and for adding a link for mine to his. Who knows? Maybe one day in the future he will be able to add me to his "bloggers I've spanked" rollcall.
Have a good night all!

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


Like it or not, I have had to come to the inescapable realization that we live in a "text message" world. You know that place. The one where GR-8 substitutes for "great" and TY takes the place of actually spelling out "thank you". As spankos, we are adept at using codewords or double speak to talk about spanking, both to each other (like when you're talking to a person that aren't sure about as far as their participation goes) and especially when vanillas are present.
We have a hard time actually saying the word spanking. So we use catch phrases like "that thing we do" to signify that we're talking about spanking. I have no problem saying "spanking" out loud or discussing it with anyone who wants to listen. But apparently, I'm the exception because "that thing we do" is almost universally understood among spankos and lifestyle people as meaning spanking. And it's gotten even worse. Now no one even says "that thing we do" anymore. More and more, I when I visit a website devoted to spanking, I see TTWD has actually replaced the euphemism we used to say when we meant spanking.
I guess it's ultra-modern to use text speak in other areas---such as speech and on message boards. But I'm a bit old-fashioned, raised as I was by plain speaking people who just came out and said what was on their mind. Our lifestyle lends itself to a certain amount of euphemistic speech but I would hate to see this wonderful, gratifying, satisfying, fun activity reduced to TTWD.
I know a certain amount of discretion is required at times, but even among spankos, we have a problem coming out and saying the word. I wonder why this is? I would love to get some thoughts from others on this subject. I know I haven't blogged in awhile and that this one is a short entry...but just not much to say.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

July Party Write-Up

Well, it's taken me a week to process so I can write about the July Crimson Moon party. It ran from July 31st to August 2nd. We rented a car and drove up with our buddy, Purple Angel. We had great weather and she got a free upgrade on the car. Very nice and comfortable. We had several delays which kept us from getting on the rode as early as we'd planned. First, we had to make a stop at Wal-Mart because we were out of something one should never go to a party without (I'm talking about deodorant here) and then we had to get some food before I died. I was really hungry and prevailed upon her to take us through drive-thru for some burgers. After a mix-up involving our drinks, we were truly on the road. I can't explain the feeling I had during the whole drive up. I just felt giddy and euphoric the whole way there. I was driving to a spanking party with one of my best friends in the world and I had my sister with me. It was great. We did manage to get lost once, but even that was a temporary situation.
This party was being held at a hotel I'd never been to before so I didn't know what to expect. When we drove up, I had my first bad thought. The neighborhood was somewhat seedy-looking. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, I told myself. We met GC at the hotel (he had flown in earlier) and he helped us get our bags to our room. Our room mates were already there, one of them napping in the buff LOL. It was so good to be there and to see our old roomies again. We sat and talked with the one who was awake and then we put on our party clothes and headed down to the party suite. This time, we only had to move between the seventh and eighth floors of the hotel because we didn't get a ballroom this time. And by Friday, the smattering of vanillas had checked out so we had those two floors to ourselves. We were free to play and talk freely. Although, to be honest, I saw very little public play. I think people were sort of hesitant to play in the hallway. Maybe they were afraid that someone (a vanilla) would get off the elevator having gone to the wrong floor. In October, we'll have a large public room so I expect to see a lot of public play.
The first man I played with was an old buddy of mine; a man who's been in the scene for many, many years and has a lot of experience. It really shows. Even though I would say this man is more of a bottom than an actual switch, he always tops me well and gives me just what I want. I have yet to play with his charming wife, but she's had some health issues lately and I'm never sure if she's playing or not. Maybe that will change in October.
My second scene was very interesting. It was with my roomies, another bottom and two tops---one I've been playing with for years and the other I was meeting for the first time. I got spanked by both of them and both spankings were wonderful. Some bottoms are hesitant to play with new tops (or a top who is unknown to them) but I felt secure with my friends along. He had no problem playing with other people in the room and that says a lot about him. A top who doesn't like to have his methods observed isn't one I would rush off to play with. I got to watch the other top (the one I've known for years) do some flogging and, although it's not my cup of tea, I do enjoy watching floggings. That scene went on for awhile. Our scene was breaking up when Cigi came into the room with a switch I recognized from the March party and we all left so she could play with him. I went off in search of a cold drink and some conversation. I found both easily and pretty soon was playing again. I tend to do that at parties--it's called lap surfing. You just play with whoever asks.
Because it was the first night of a three-day party, I played fairly lightly. Most people know me as a hard player, but I was trying to pace myself better than I usually do and I think I succeeded at this party. My next play partner was another man I had played with for the first time in March, although I had seen him at other parties. I wanted him to use some of his toys on me, but he shook his head and said we would do that tomorrow. It was probably a wise decision on his part. Most of his toys are nasty. But he hand spanked me very nicely and then I stayed and took a few pictures while he spanked Cigi. This guy is a young man in his late 20's and it's my hope that all of the male tops in the scene follow his example. If they do, the scene will be just fine once us older people retire from active spanking life. Just like with me, he gave her a great warm-up, promising to break out the toys the next night. We held him to that promise, believe me.
By the time I got finished with that spanking, it was time to get some food. As I stated in other blogs, Cigi and I are usually forced to economize for these parties and bring Lean Cuisines from home. So I popped one in the microwave and checked out what was on TV. As usual, nothing worth watching. I thought about bringing a book to read, but had abandoned the idea as ludicrous. Who wants to sit in their hotel room reading a book at a spanking party? So I just wolfed my food down and headed back to the party room. There wasn't a whole lot shaking. In fact, I was the only woman present. And although I was a bottom surrounded by male tops, I never got an offer to play. Maybe everyone had just played. Or, like me, they had full stomachs. Whatever the reason, I wasn't totally disappointed that I got no offers from these guys, especially after their conversation turned somewhat vulgar. As the only woman in the room, I soon found the immature banter tiresome and went off in search of more congenial company.
Believe it or not, it was beginning to get a little bit late. I started thinking about going to bed. Cigi had the same idea after I ran into her coming down the hallway from another room. I asked her if she was tired and she admitted that she was and that it might be time to consider hitting the sack. So we headed back to our room to go to bed. Our room mates were right behind us, it turned out. One of them had worked her third shift job the night before and hadn't gotten very much sleep (aside from what she could get on the drive up and the naked nap she'd taken at the hotel before we got there). We talked briefly about some of the people we'd seen and played with, but pretty soon, weariness won out and we were all soon drifting off to dreamland.
I had heard that we had had a thunderstorm during the night, but I had slept through the whole thing. And the day dawned cool and gorgeous. We went down to the hotel restaurant for the complimentary breakfast. There was plenty of seating but the food left a lot to be desired. My bagel was fine, but the biscuits and gravy weren't exactly like Mom used to make. But I was hungry, so I ate them. The company was great, as the lady in the room next to us was there, too. We had met this lady at the previous years October party and had struck up a friendship. The women in the scene have to stick up for and protect each other. And this depends on us becoming friends first. After breakfast, we went back to her room for some conversation. I hadn't seen her since March and I knew some things had been going on in her life and I wanted to touch base with her. I adore this lady, but she has issues (like most of us). One of her issues involves being conflicted over being in the lifestyle. I can relate to that as I often feel conflicted myself about certain aspects of scene life. We had a very nice conversation, during which she showed me a picture of her cat that she took with her phone. Her cat looks a lot like mine and we had a nice chuckle over that.
As much as I loved talking to my buddies, I was itching to find someone to play with and get the day going, even though I wasn't in my party clothes yet. I found one person who was interested in playing with me, but I had already played with him and politely told him I really didn't want to play with him at that moment. I was looking for someone I hadn't played with yet (at least not at this party). I was then found by the lady I had had the wonderful conversation with and she asked me if I'd like to go with her and some of the others for lunch. I was getting a little hungry by this time, so I said 'Why not?' I had no idea where Cigi was or what she was up to but I really wasn't worried. I can remember parties past where I did worry about her and that caused some conflict between us. She was angry with me then about "checking up" on her. So I've learned to trust her and stop doing it. But since she's been ill, I've caught myself doing it at various times. She understands that my worry is just the normal feelings a twin has for her twin and she doesn't get mad any more.
We went to a place close to the hotel. I wanted to get a Reuben, but I thought sauerkraut at a spanking party was a bad idea so I got something else instead. Again, there was great conversation. I remember when I got a little jaded after a couple of years in the scene. I told myself 'I don't wanna know these people. I just wanna play with 'em.' But now I find myself wanting to get to know this new batch of people in the group. Many of them are very interesting people and live very interesting lives. I'm not really into the whats and wherefores of their particular scene, but it's interesting to hear them talk about their vanilla lives. Since we were in public, that's pretty much what we had to do. The food was great, but our waitress was somewhat ditzy (think Vera from "Alice"). She got our orders confused not once, but twice. But she was so nice we left her a big tip anyway.
By the time I got back to the hotel, it was time to get showered and changed into my party clothes. I don't really dress up at the summer parties, opting more for comfort than style. But I try to look nice. The first night, I wore a denim skirt and knit tank. Pretty comfy, right? The second night, I wore hot pink shorts and a print top. I had heard that a top who loved to spank women on shorts might attend and the shorts were sort of for him. Unfortunately, he didn't show. But I still got some compliments along with several attempts to make my bottom match my attire. But the highlight of that evening (maybe the entire party) was the arrival that night of a man who I can never pass on getting caned by. He's more well known for his leather toys, but because he's English, he has to know how to cane, too and, believe me, he does. The way this came about was that I was sitting in the hallway on one of a long row of chairs talking to some other people, when a top I'd already played with came into the hallway and beckoned me. Now everyone knows I'm not submissive and it's not my thing to just go when summoned, but I thought he wanted to play again and I didn't want to pass on the chance. But he asked me a favor. He said that if he warmed me up, would I allow his friend to cane me? This guy had been at lunch with us earlier and this top knew him from another site. I think (judging from the site he was on and the fact that someone else was going to have to warm me up) that this guy was all about punishment. I don't think just playing because it's fun ever entered his mind. Anyway, the top who warmed me up did a great job. I went into the room (which was sort of quasi-public) this other guy was standing there with a bunch of canes. I wouldn't say that I was afraid of him. But I felt a little uncomfortable since I didn't know how extensive his experience with canes was. He held them out to me and asked with ones I would be interested in trying. I picked the thicker of the canes he held and explained that I don't like thin, whippy canes. He looked a bit put off by my saying I didn't like something and he was going to have to accept it because this was fun party and not a punishment. Anyway, I was glad the door was open. I got on the bed, sort of on all fours, a position he asked me to assume. I told him I couldn't hold that position very long and that I would let him know when I wanted to change positions. I think he considered this topping from the bottom because he got that same displeased expression on his face. I asked him how long he had been using the cane but his answer was non-committal. "Long enough". Well, we would soon see. He gave me about thirty strokes, about half of which missed the target. I said earlier I was glad the door had been open because the Englishman came in shaking his head. He asked the man if he could show him a different approach and the man reluctantly gave up his cane. This is how I managed to get caned by this lovely Englishman. He told the man several things he had been doing wrong and then proceeded to give the room a 20-stroke demonstration using me, his blissed out bottom, as a subject. The Englishman instructed the man in several ways to make sure he was safe and didn't wrap his subject. The man said 'Well, I find that when punishing a submissive, that wrapping isn't entirely unwanted.' The Englishman sighed heavily. 'Well, man, there are two things wrong with that. First of all, she's not a submissive and second of all, she's not getting punished. She's at a party where she has another night to play and I'm sure she doesn't want any wrap welts.' When the Englishman had finished, he returned the cane to the other guy, who thought he was going to give me more strokes. I begged off and told him I didn't want any more. I had taken about 50 strokes and that was enough. I can take more than that, but I really didn't want to play with him any more. His attitude sort of made me uncomfortable. I'd only played with him because a top I like and respect asked me to. I had a feeling he wasn't having much luck on his own.
I was pretty sore by this time and needed a rest so I went back across the hall to my room. For once, the room was empty. I wasn't hungry, but I was thirsty so I got a can of Mountain Dew out of the mini fridge. Because of my somewhat negative experience with the new top, I was afraid my head was going to go to a bad place; a place so bad that it would prevent me from enjoying the rest of the party. I thought that by carefully selecting my play partners I could totally eliminate Bad Head Space from my future experiences. But I wasn't careful this time. I allowed myself to make a decision based on what someone else wanted rather than what I wanted. I tried to use it as a learning experience and tried to keep it in perspective--no real damage had been done, after all. And I wasn't a newbie. I was well aware that just because this guy thought he was punishing me didn't mean he actually was. My head space dictates to me how the scene will go in most circumstances. Only in rare instances (back when I was still learning) had I allowed a top's head space to supersede my own. What was needed here was a dose of comic relief. And it came not a moment too soon. I went back across the hall and the Englishman was still there, telling a hilarious story about something that happened to him on a train when he was still living in England. When he saw me, he apologized for interrupting my scene with the new guy. He explained that nothing made him angrier than a so-called "disciplinarian" who doesn't know what he's doing with canes. You can mishit with a strap and, while it's a painful experience, it's unlikely to cause any lasting damage. But a mishit with a cane could be a potential disaster. Instead of giving me what I wanted, he had simply given me what he thought I should take. It was a bad scene all the way around. But it was salvaged by the good humor and expertise of an adorable Englishman who I have grown to really appreciate and grow fond of over the years.
A little while later, some good friends that I would classify as brats, came into the room and asked if anyone felt like going with them for ice cream. I thought it was getting a bit late and admitted that I was saving my money for the next day's vendor's fair, when the Englishman would have a full array of his wonderful leather things for sale. So, despite some misgivings, I passed. I wanted to stay close to the hotel and play some more now that I was rested and my head space had been rescued. I went back to the party room and found one of my favorite lady switches and asked her to play. Somehow, this evolved into a four-way scene involving me, the lady switch, Cigi and a very willing male bottom. The lady switch first spanked the three of us and then she, Cigi and I sort of ganged up on the male bottom. I don't top often but I sort of felt like I wanted to. I think it was a mistake because my head was still not in a good place entirely. The wonderful spanking from the lady switch helped though. She has an amazing collection of toys. I always love playing with her. The male bottom was extremely submissive to us, always asking if we thought he was taking his spanking well. I and Cigi both tried to explain to him that we were bottoms, not tops or Dommes. It wasn't about what we thought. It was about what he wanted. But we could never make him see that. I knew topping this guy was a major error in judgment for me. But I sure enjoyed the spanking I got from my switch friend so the experience wasn't totally negative. But I had to come to grips with the fact that I had done two scenes in a row that went against my better judgment. I thought it was time to call it a night. By the time I got back to the party room, the crowd had thinned considerably since I'd last been there. I did get to have one last scene with the man who had warmed me up earlier for his friend. This time, he used some of his toys on me. He was great. Just what I needed before bedtime. He apologized for putting me in a difficult position with his friend, but he just wanted someone to play with him. I shrugged and told him I could've said 'no'. I had thought about it, but I hadn't wanted to disappoint him. We talked about how the scene had deteriorated and how he would never put another person in the position of feeling obligated to play with someone they have a bad feeling about. He told me the other guy's philosophy greatly differed from his. He had seen firsthand just how different the two of them were. When the scene ended, I went off to bed. This time, our room mates were already sleeping when we went back to our room. Cigi and I had to negotiate an unfamiliar room in the dark. We didn't want to wake them up and had no idea how long they had been in bed. My bottom was sore and swollen, but so far, despite the 50-stroke caning, I didn't have any marks. That was a good sign considering how hard I had played that night. My last spanker had given me about 20 strokes with one of own canes. He was better than his friend had been. And he listened to me when I gave him advice. I have been caned literally hundreds of times and I know how I like it. I reminded him that some ladies who love the cane don't love it done hard and that different women play at different levels. He already knew that, of course, but he appreciated the reminder.
We slept a bit later the next morning. I looked around for GC and Purple Angel, but there was no sign of them. I had been told the night before that they had spent a good part of that day at an art museum and now she was having pain in her leg that was keeping her in bed. I tried to call her room, but forgot what room she was in. Every time I saw GC, I asked about her. I played with him on Thursday and, although he only spanks with his hand, he's pretty good.
After breakfast, I was on my way to my room when the lady in the room next to ours asked me if I would go to breakfast with her and two other gentlemen. It turned out to be the guy who had warmed me up the night before and his buddy, the one without a clue. She told me she didn't want to go alone with them. I had already eaten and I was feeling somewhat on the spot (again) but the pleading expression on her face told me she really wanted me to go so I said OK. We went in my warm up guy's double cab truck. The other guy (the Caner Without A Clue) kept up absurd conversation during the whole drive and much of the meal. I had an ice cream soda for breakfast. He asked me rather stupidly if I thought that was a proper breakfast for a "young lady". I told him probably not but I had already eaten breakfast and had only come along for the ride. He was trying to show what an experienced Dom he was, but he just put his foot in his mouth at every turn. And he was tiresome company. I tried very hard to be nice to him, but I felt after his caning fiasco the night before I couldn't keep up the charade. I value honesty. If he was inexperienced, he should've said so when I asked him. His vague answer told me all I needed to know. You might be able to fake it with some other implements, but you absolutely cannot fake it with the cane. His ridiculous attempts at conversation were another turn off for me. And so were his clothes. To be honest, they smelled. You know how sometimes you forget you have a load of laundry in the wash and it sits there long enough to go sour? Well, most of us would simply re-wash the clothes. It smelled like this guy just put them in the dryer anyway. I go to great lengths to look and smell nice for the people who play with me. I expect them to reciprocate. Anway, I didn't see this guy again the rest of the party. He said one of the women he "mentors" sent him a text that she was in some trouble and he said he would have to leave. Who even knows if this is the truth or not? Whatever the reason, he was gone and I was relieved. I was nice to him. I let him cane me despite his obvious lack of experience (or was it a lack of concern for my safety?). I even sat next to him at breakfast despite the fact that I practically had to hold my nose the whole time. What more did he want?
When we returned to the hotel, I got showered and cleaned up for Night Three of the party. But first the vendor's fair. The Englishman had his wicked leather implements taking two full tables. His adorable girlfriend was on hand for demoing purposes. Another table comprised of wood fraternity and sorority paddles, rug beaters, assorted canes and brushes. It was a somewhat small turn out, but everyone had a great time. Bill Sova was there with his "Cinema Swats" table and I bought two DVD's to round out my collection. This guy knows everything about every spanking scene ever put on film (or so it would seem). There's no old film or TV show too obscure for him. If there's a spanking in it, he'll find it. Anyway, Cigi and I spent what we could afford and came away with some very nice things. Now it was time to try the new acquisitions out. Simply because everyone was eager to try out their new toys, I had some great scenes that day. The only one that really stands out is the last one of the night. It was with the new top I had played with that first night with the others in the room. He had purchased some new toys and we used them all. He has a fun attitude and doesn't take himself too seriously. He'll be a very popular top, I predict.
By the time we left on Sunday, I was ready to get home. The drive was nice, as Purple Angel had recovered enough to drive. We stopped for lunch at a '50's style diner. I was very sorry the party was over and that she had had to spend most of it confined to her room in bed. But she assured me she had been very well looked after so there had been some benefit after all.
Now all there is to do is wait for October. I can hardly wait.

Sunday, July 27, 2008


It was just supposed to be a quiet Saturday night. Cigi got home from work around 4:00. We made plans to reheat some leftovers and watch the Cardinal game. A ringing of our telephone about a half hour later changed those plans.
The call was from one of our favorite Tops; a man we've known since our earliest days in the scene. As Cigi spoke with him, I was barely paying attention. But one phrase caught my attention--"Are you on your way here?" I perked up immediately as chances to play between parties have become scarce lately. I was delighted to learn that the answer to that particular question was a resounding "Yes!". But I was also thrown into chaotic pandemonium. I had been in drowsy, late afternoon mode, but realizing that a visitor was coming snapped me out of it. Cigi asked how far away he was and was relieved to hear that he wouldn't arrive for two more hours. Now, let me stress right here that this particular Top doesn't really care about appearances. He wasn't going to inspect the apartment to make sure we had taken the garbage out and run the dishwasher. He wouldn't care if we were bathed, shaved and had make-up on. Another Top we adore calls this practice "getting girlified" (sorry, Devlin, if that's not a real word, but he's from Texas so what can you expect? lol). He wasn't going to fold his arms in Toppish disapproval if the carpet wasn't vacuumed or the furniture dusted. But we took care of all those things because we were raised to do them. We were taught that if a visitor comes (no matter how unexpected) you're supposed to make your home clean and welcoming. This Top wouldn't care about any of it. He just wanted to see us and, after dinner, spank us. We will see him at the Crimson Moon party so it's not like he didn't know when he would see us again. But I wanted a spanking really bad.
We got the apartment and ourselves cleaned up just in time to go downstairs and meet him. He'd had surgery on his spanking shoulder in spring (I'm sure Dr. Ken now knows exactly who I'm talking about) and I was eager to see if he could still bring it. But that would have to wait until after dinner. He took us to our favorite Chinese buffet. I could eat Chinese food everyday and twice on Sunday. To me, nothing is better than gobbling down a steaming plate of General Tso's, along with crab rangoon and spicy dumplings and then going home to get spanked. Well, except for maybe chocolate before spanking. But I digress. The meal was wonderful as always and this Top had some fun with our waitress, a very small Chinese girl whose command of English was negligible. If I had done the things he did, he would've called it bratting. But, hey, I learned a long time ago that Tops can get away with just about anything.
Anyway, we drove home and he spanked me first. Usually, Cigi goes first, but she relinquished her cherished spot in the order for me. I should tell you that this particular Top is just about the only one who is big enough to really make me feel like a kid over his knee (now I know Ken knows who I'm talking about). And he has hands like hammers. He spanks nice..nice and hard just the way I like it. However, I was a little disappointed in my tolerance. With a three-day party coming up, I'm worried about how much spanking I'll be able to take. After a nice warm up (where Cigi was happy to take a picture of my red bottom) it was Cigi's turn. Now, you have to know how much I love watching her get spanked. Her reactions are priceless. I took a few pictures of her, too. We had the Cardinal game on and I noticed that, while we were getting spanked, my Cardinals banged out four hits and three runs. But when we took a break, those Mets tied the score. I told this Top to hurry up and spank me some more. The game ended up going 14 innings and we won with a homer! I think getting spanked on game days is good luck. I would happily volunteer to get spanked everyday during the season if it will help my Cardinals win the pennant. But he's a White Sox fan. I think his team won, too (how's that for mixing spanking and baseball, my two favorite pasttimes?).
We talked, of course, about the scene, about Cigi's illness, about the upcoming party and about some of the characters we've met on the journey. This Top is somewhat pensive and so the conversation dragged on. Of course, about that time, someone (not saying who) did something bratty and another round of spankings ensued. Let's just say I'm glad I stand up at work.
At around 10:00 he had to get going. The time was way too short, but I had a nice sore, red butt and a great meal in my stomach. And then there was his parting promise....
"See ya' Thursday!"

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Party Planning

Well, here it is, mid-July. That means the big three-day Crimson Moon party is only two weeks away. Having known since the last CM July party that we would be attending this year, why does it feel like Cigi and I have waited until the last minute to get things together? Oh, I don't mean we've waited until the last minute to pay our party fee (we did that two months ago) or book our hotel room (that's already taken care of, too). I'm talking about trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind. Now I know that before the last party I posted an entry where I described the things I cannot possibly be without at a party. I'm talking about non-necessary items. Three of us (me, Cigi and Purple Angel) will be travelling together so there are the logistics of trying to figure out how three women are going to fit their luggage into the economy car we're renting for the trip up. Since there are two of us (me and Cigi) we will have two bags plus a toy bag. We have been doing this for over five years and have not been able to pare down the essentials that a woman must have to make it through a four-day trip. Cigi and I are planning on bringing our canes this time, too so room will need to be made for them. But because of the outrageous gas prices in our area, we couldn't rent the big boat we wanted LOL. We were forced to rent a small car that gets good highway gas mileage. Cigi and I have always done our best to economize at these parties. Like for instance, instead of going out to eat for every meal, we have always brought Lean Cuisine meals from home and heated them up in our room. Sharing a hotel room helps keep the cost down, too.
What I'm really stressing about is what to wear. Since I'm not the youngest lady in the group, I tossed out the notion of dressing in sexy clothes and went for cute and spankable. After all, what spanking girl doesn't take being called spankable as a compliment? Summer used to be a time when I worked on my tan religiously (even on my bottom) and went to the parties with wonderful color. I looked good in just about everything back then (or so I thought). Now I really can't sunbathe the way I used to because I don't have the privacy required to get my buns nice and tan. And I will not go to a tanning salon. Why pay huge amounts of money to lay in a tanning bed when the sun is free? So now I'm white as a sheet and I just don't think summer clothes look the same on me. So I'm stressing. And zero hour approaches. You would think having five years' worth of experience, I would get better at this. But it happens before almost every party. And it looks like my work schedule is going to make it hard to get those last minute things done. Hopefully, I won't have to work late the night before we leave. By late I mean 11:30 PM. I've always secretly envied people who can just toss stuff into a suitcase and say "let's go!" I'm a Capricorn and so being practical and a careful planner is sort of hard wired into my thought process. Although I envy those sorts, I just can't bring myself to toss stuff into a suitcase and say "let's go!" Not ever going to happen, folks. I try to prepare for whatever can possibly happen at these parties. I've been stuck a long way from the hotel front door in a downpour without an umbrella, so even if there's not a cloud in the sky, my umbrella now makes the trip. And, since my favorite soda is never included when the Crimson Crew gets the drinks together, a 12-pack of Mountain Dew also makes the trip. Back in March, when I thought Cigi and I had overdone it, one of the ladies we were sharing a room with said 'There's two of you and that's all you brought?' With that comment, she indicated that we had packed lightly for a weekend. And I thought we'd brought way too much. Of course, that was until I saw all of her stuff. She looked like she was running away from home.
So the question of what to bring and what to leave behind is weighing kind of heavily on me today. I've had four months to get ready for this party and, once again, a party day is going to dawn with me running around my apartment like a chicken with its head off. Ah well...I guess that's part of the fun.