Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part IV

Because the suite parties started so late, we were off playing until almost 4 am. I'm a 52-year-old woman who works full time and has a regular bedtime because I have to be able to function at work. It had been a long day and me, Sherri and Lisa fell into bed exhausted. I was really sore and it wasn't just my bottom. My ribs were really sore. I took a tramadol before hitting the sack and slept like a log. We woke up later that morning. I found out that Sherri had walked to a nearby market to buy some milk. We got dressed and, because there was no free breakfast offered by the hotel, we were forced to eat what we had in the room. There were cookies, fudge, grapes, muffins and Coke to wash it all down with. "Breakfast of champions" as we say in the Midwest.

As sometimes happens at parties, my mind was a blur and I'm not sure how we ended up back in Tom and Nancy's room for more play. Again, it was awesome and this time we had even more people in the room. Again, Tom started with his hand.

It was relatively warm that day so I felt OK wearing a short sleeved shirt and sandals. I stressed because my fat gut was showing in the photos, but there was nothing I could do about it. Again, Tom made sure I had a pillow under me to cushion my ribs (which were extremely sore that day). You can  sort of see where the Family Strap hit on my bottom. The mark was visible the rest of the weekend. I was pretty happy about being able to wear these jeans. I'd bought them at a thrift store hoping to diet into them, which I did.

We were joined by Kaity-lyn and her husband, Rodney. We were also joined by RodneySpanksHard FirmHandTn. Both men managed to get some playtime with me. There were plenty of bottoms in attendance and all of them were seen to by the kind gentlemen, I was again treated to some very interesting toys. One of them was called "The 50 Shades strap". It felt pretty much like any other strap.

But I guess some crafty marketing genius tied this in with the books. Whatever the case, Tom sure got a kick out of using this. He even put the little bag it came in on my back so people would know it was s "50 Shades" strap. There was a lot of spanking going on in that room. Everyone was getting in on the act. Tom was no sooner done with me, than RodneySpanksHard wanted his chance with me. I kind of regret that this was our only chance to play all weekend. But whenever I play with Rodney, i have to get the London Tanner prison strap and he let me have it good this time.

It doesn't matter what kind of condition my bottom is in, I always want the prison strap laid on well and Rodney can sure bring the pain. I first felt the prison strap in 2003 from the man who makes them. I was impressed that day and always love to feel it from whoever has it. This wouldn't be the only time I would feel it. I would love to have one, but they are extremely expensive and I just don't have the funds for it. Of course, if anyone wants to buy me one, I wouldn't turn it down. As I was being strapped here, Nancy was being spanked by someone else. The ones who weren't being spanked were kind enough to snap pictures. Photo wise, this was a great party. Everyone I asked was more than happy to take photos for me. And I returned the favor whenever anyone asked me to take a photo for them. When Rodney got done with me, I found myself across the knee of FirmHandTn. Like the other tops I'd played with, he let me put a pillow between my ribs and his knees.

I didn't notice it at the time, but it's a good thing for my sister, Sherri, that I don't kick my feet. She's directly behind me and was smiling the whole time. This is one of my favorite photos from that whole weekend. I sometimes get grief from people because I smile when I'm getting spanked. For some reason, it just rubs them the wrong way. If I'm being honest, i'll admit that I sometimes do it on purpose; I smile on purpose to annoy them. Some people take themselves and spanking way too seriously. They can't smile, laugh or admit that it's fun. For them, it always has to be about punishment or a "learning experience". While that may be OK in a relationship, at a party, people are there to have fun. And I was determined to have fun, despite ribs that were so sore I could hardly breathe. But I wasn't about to throw away six months of planning and sweating. So I grit my teeth and played on. When I was done with this one, Rodneyv(the other one) decided I needed to feel the "special strap" that he had, so over the bed I went for that.

I love straps. It doesn't matter what kind it is, I like it. Well, except for the Family Strap. And I have a feeling that I might have liked it under other circumstances. It got pretty frenzied in that room, with people swinging all kinds of implements. Luckily, there were no incidents. Usually, when lying on the bed like this, I would have the pillow under my hips, but here I had it under my chest to protect my sore ribs. I really didn't think they would be this much of an issue, but they were. But as I said, I was determined to enjoy myself. One of the highlights of this day was feeling a strap that had been made specially for me by Mike of the Correction Colllection. I had made a comment on one of his photos, a photo of some lovely paddles he had made. The workmanship looked amazing and I commented that, while they were lovely, there wasn't a green one. All of the colors were nice, but green is my favorite color. So he offered to make a green one and bring it to the party. And he was as good as his word. He uses buffalo hide to make his paddles and he gave me a sample of it the night before. But this was MY strap, made specially for me. There isn't another green one in existence.

It sure does cover a lot of surface area and it will take some breaking in to get it nice and supple, but I love it. It definitely has some bite to it. I think Mike (my top) will love it, too when he gets his hands on it. We'll soon see. Anyway, the fun was beginning to wind down and someone suggested one of my fvorite things to do: a line up. All of usnice red color and so we lined up, pants down for a group shot.

To me, these scenes are always delightful. Everyone seemed to have gotten all the spanking they wanted. This had been a really fun way to spend a couple of hours.

Tomorrow, I finally end up over the knee of my benefactor :)

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part III

Tom was in total spanko heaven. He was in a room, the only top in the room and he was surrounded by spankable women. The magnitude of this moment wasn't lost on me, believe me. To my way of thinking, that's what these weekend parties are for-- to live out our fantasies in a place that's both safe and accepting. I'm quite sure that Tom has done this  before. I have done it before, for sure. But a scene like this never loses its wonder and charm, no matter how many times you've done it before. Tom was extremely accommodating. Knowing that my ribs were an issue (and they were that entire weekend, much to my chagrin), he put me over his knee on the bed in the most comfortable position we could find. He was patient when I asked him to stop so I could change position. He instinctively knew that I liked to be spanked over panties (or perhaps he had read my very long fetish list) and he indulged me in that.

It was an awesome experience being spanked by someone who so obviously enjoyed what he did. He and Nancy are well-travelled and know the party circuit well. I, on the other hand, had never ventured out of Illinois to attend a party before now. I must have looked like a total rube to them, but they had the class and good grace not to mention it. I felt like someone attending a fancy dinner party for the first time and not knowing which fork to use. Part of the problem was that I had a preconceived notion about what I thought Atlantic City was. I envisioned it as being replete with high rollers and mobster types all trying to find an angle. But none of that was true; at least, I didn't see it. All of my illusions about the city were fractured that weekend. It was nothing like I pictured it. My mother was fond of that old Anita Bryant song "On the boardwalk in Atlantic City, we will walk in a dream..." I used to remember hearing her sing it while she ironed or did the dishes. And I guess that's what I did all weekend-- I walked in a dream. But the reality was that it was just a place like a lot of other places. I remember telling Sherri when we came into town that, aside from the casinos, it looked a lot like downtown Peoria. To an inexperienced traveller like me, who just doesn't know what to look for, Atlantic City wasn't the dreamland I always thought it would be from hearing my mother sing about it.

Tom spanked me very nicely, first with his hand and then with an assortment of interesting toys. I was surprised more than once by what a hard spanker he could be considering Nancy doesn't play that hard. He was obviously enjoying spanking me as much as I was enjoying being spanked by him.

He sure did make my bottom red. Even after ten years in the active party scene, I still redden easily, though I don't mark easily anymore. I love it that Tom has his eyes completely riveted on my bottom. He obviously loves what he does and there's no jealousy on Nancy's part (not that I saw anyway). She happily snapped pictures while her husband of 28 years thoroughly spanked my bottom. It was a great way to get the party kicked off. But it had to end sometime. I'm extremely happy that Nancy had the good sense to get a picture of the post-spanking hug.

I think we're always so busy trying to get good action shots that we forget about this intimate and necessary part of the spanking experience. After all the hard swats and quasi-scolding, the tenderness of the post-spanking hug is often quite poignant, as this photo illustrates. Tom went on to spank every lady in the room with gusto.

One of the things that baffles me a bit about these very large parties is the concept of the "suite party". I probably don't have to explain what this is, but for my readers who don't know, I'll explain. A suite party is a gathering that takes place in some one's private suite. They are kind enough to open their room for play. At Crimson Moon, a lot of people open their rooms for play. They simply throw the night latch and bar their door open, letting anyone who happens by know that it's OK to come in. This happens at all times of the day and night. I and my room mates have often left the door latched open from the time we got up until we decided to call it a night. At these bigger parties, they are scheduled events, taking place later in the evening (in this case, very late). I would imagine that at these larger parties, things have to be scheduled a bit more because things can quickly get out of hand otherwise. The suite parties started at 11 o'clock that Thursday night but they wouldn't start until midnight on Friday and Saturday. When 11 o'clock rolled around, Sherri and I headed up to the 52nd floor where the suite parties were being held. There was some confusion because we were told more than once that the parties were being held on the 49th floor. But once the confusion was straightened out, we went to the 52nd floor and saw that, indeed, there were parties going on. The group leaders had their own "security" people manning a table in the hallway. You couldn't get into any of the suites without a name tag signifying that you were part of our group and the security people were scrupulous about checking. Several times that weekend our festivities were investigated by real hotel security. They were easily spotted because they wore dark clothing and had earpieces which they spoke into, like they were in the Secret Service or something. I think they came up more out of curiosity because I never heard that there were any complaints about us. Yes, we were a little loud, but no louder than the casino.

Another thing that surprised me was the amount of alcohol in the suites. There was a mind boggling array of booze in all of the party suites. At Crimson Moon, until the passing of our president, Vince Falletti in December, 2008, alcohol had been forbidden in the public rooms. Having booze in your private room was also frowned upon (but not against the rules). So I wasn't used to seeing that amount of alcohol. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not trying to sound judgmental here. As a recovered alcoholic, I have enough years of sobriety in that it won't be jeopardized by being around someone who had a glass of wine with dinner or someone who decided that a boilermaker makes a pretty good thirst quencher. But I saw people who had been hitting the sauce pretty hard doing some pretty intense play. I have made it my policy not to play with someone who's obviously impaired from drinking too much. Again, if someone had some wine with dinner or a couple of whiskey sours, and they are still in command of themselves, I would probably still play with them. But someone who obviously is intoxicated won't touch me. In this case, I would rather someone ended up with hurt feelings than end up in the ER. I've had enough bad luck this year without tempting fate.

When we got to the suite party in Mike Tanner's room (I assumed it was his anyway) he was giving out licks with something called the Family Strap. I have no idea why it's called that or if Mike was the one who so christened it. But I saw Sherri and Lisa both take three with that thing and they are both hard players. So I assumed I would have no trouble taking the same number. Imagine my surprise when I could only take two. The first stroke wrapped a bit and hit uncomfortable territory so that may have thrown my head space off. Whatever the case, that was that. I'm really not into contests anyway. I was much more interested in being caned by Richard Windsor. I had watched him cane Sherri and took some pretty good pictures, despite the "no camera" policy. I had been intrigued by Richard ever since I first saw his blog some five years ago. Being caned by an authentic Englishman isn't something that happens to me every day and I was determined to savor it. I don't know if he still has it up, but he used to have a thing on his blog called "Bloggers I've Spanked". I so wanted to be added to the list. I lost no time in getting over the bed. What I really wanted was to be over his knee, but he didn't seem interested and my ribs were being problematic anyway so the bed was just  as good. Since it had been a while since I'd played, Richard gave me a nice warm up with his hand. I couldn't believe I was actually being spanked by THE Richard Windsor. I'd seen a few of his videos and I knew that a few jealous  types had tried to sully his reputation. But none of that mattered when I was under his hand.

He has a tremendous spanking hand. It's nice and heavy and he knows what part of the bottom to aim for. Tom and Nancy decided to watch from the best seat in the house. After the warm up, it was time to break out the cane and he didn't disappoint me. Being a veteran party goer, Richard understands that most of us bottoms play pretty lightly that first night in order to conserve bottom for the rest of the weekend. Few things annoy me more than watching a top systematically destroy as many bottoms as he can before other tops can get to them. What purpose this serves, other than to make bottoms hesitant to play with him again, I have no clue. It's a sign that the top is both arrogant and inconsiderate. As I'd waited many years to be in this position, I wanted to remember every aspect of it. I was almost bursting with anticipation by the time the caning got underway.

It was exquisite. Richard is a top notch caner. The cane he used was a bit thicker than the medium width canes I prefer but it in no way compromised the scene. I can't remember how many strokes he gave me that night, but I think it was a dozen. When it was over, he thanked me and told me I had taken it very well. Then he hugged me and told me we would play again, harder next time. That gave me (and my bottom) something to look forward to.

Tomorrow, another first :)

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part II

When we got to the hotel, I was totally overwhelmed. I must have looked like a total tourist craning my neck to look at the tall buildings. Even as we pulled up to the door, I had doubts that we were at the right hotel. The bell boys, in their bright red uniforms, looked like something out of a movie. Our luggage was tagged and taken to a little room to await our room being ready. Our roommate, Lisa, hadn't arrived yet. I was looking for a familiar face but didn't see anyone from our party. Sherri went to park her car and asked me to stay in the lobby. I was still looking around, looking every inch the first timer. Finally, Sherri returned. There was nothing to do but try to find someone from our party. I still thought there was a chance we were in the wrong hotel. But then, I spotted someone I recognized. The black hat could only belong to one person: Richard Windsor. And it was him. I pointed him out to Sherri, who seemed equally relieved at seeing someone from our party. We went over to him and introduced ourselves. He looked just like his pictures. Except I thought he'd be taller. He asked about our trip and graciously invited us to go with him to the pool to attend a little meet and greet he was hosting. When we got to the floor where the pool was, we had to sign a paper to get in. This didn't seem unreasonable as we were not yet registered guests. Since the room was in Lisa's name, we had to wait for her to arrive. When we got to the pool, I couldn't believe how warm it was in there. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and had no chance to change my shirt since the luggage was stored away. There were a lot of people I recognized and a few I was meeting for the first time. During a break outside to cool off, I got my first glimpse of the ocean. I was awed by it and I couldn't wait to snap some pictures.

Because of the damage caused by Hurricane (or Super Storm if you prefer) Sandy, there was a lot of construction going on. Several of the construction workers proved to be just as lovely scenery as the ocean. Sherri stayed in contact via text with Lisa, who like us, was driving in. We got a bit bored (not to mention warm) so we headed back to the lobby. We saw Charles there, a switch who I've known for ten years. Right after that, Lisa showed up. We went up to the desk to get registered. Just as we suspected, our room wasn't ready yet. Charles invited us to come up to his room and wait, as the man at the desk told Lisa he would text her when it was ready. Somehow, while visiting in Charles' room, Charles and I ended up spanking Lisa with our sandals. Going up to Charles' room I had my first confrontation with the elevator. Charles' room was on the 42nd floor of the hotel. The elevators felt really fast to me. It felt like being shot from a cannon. Somehow, the elevators went from the 2nd floor to the 33rd. As fast as the elevators were, I came to the conclusion that they weren't going to be that much of a problem. That was a pleasant surprise. We had been told that our room would be ready by four o'clock so we felt we had some time to waste. When we got to Charles' room, we couldn't believe the size of the bathroom. Lisa put it well when she said "The bathroom is bigger than my first apartment!" There was actually a vanity where you could sit and put on make up or style your hair properly. By the time we got done messing around in Charles' room, it was five o'clock. Lisa got a bit frustrated and called the desk to see if our room was ready. She was told it was. So much for the text telling us. Lisa and Sherri went to get the room keys and pick up our luggage. Sherri said she would call Charles' room and let me know what room we were in. It turned out to be one floor above Charles'. He very nicely went in the elevator with me. I don't think I will ever be able to go in one alone. It's just too scary to think about. When I got to our room, Sherri told me that two bell boys had brought the luggage (which included my toy bag) up and they had expected to be tipped and tipped well. This was my first indication that things in Atlantic City aren't like things back home. Everything is expensive and nothing is free. I understand that a person has to make a living. But the trip was already proving to be more expensive than I thought it would be. We began the task of getting our clothes put away. I called dibs on the bed by the window so Sherri and I would be sharing that one. It was time to get our party clothes on. I knew I hadn't packed enough clothes, especially pants. I had not known what to pack because I was unsure of the weather. I guess it didn't really matter what I wore. It was going to be jeans and a top. Lisa and I needed time to put on make up and do something with our hair. Pretty soon, it was time to go downstairs to the Pro Bar and get registered. As soon as we got downstairs, I heard someone call my name. It was Nancy, someone I had wanted to meet for a long time. She's a 64-year-old grandmother, but I never believed it. She was way too gorgeous and sexy to be a grandma. She introduced us to her husband, Tom who I had also noticed was on Fetlife. When I got in line to get registered, I realized that they were asking for ID. I had left my purse up in the room, opting to carry my camera in my jeans pocket. One of the other party goers was kind enough to snap a group shot of us:

I loved Tom's shirt. It has baseball cards on it. I look like I'm crushing Nancy, poor thing. Those red drinks are actually spanko drinks that the waitress had made for us. She at first asked if we were the "smacko" group and she was quickly corrected. Once we got registered, Tom graciously ordered some appetizers for us. I was famished, to be honest. The first big surprise of the party came when Nancy introduced me to one of my spanking video idols, Ralph Marvel.

I was thrilled again when he consented to stand for a photo with me. I had been watching him in Shadow Lane videos for almost 20 years and I was so thrilled to meet him. I wish I had looked better in the photo, but I look like a starstruck groupie. I was just so thrilled to meet this guy. The next night, he would give me a second thrill by giving a very nice public caning. While meeting all of these people was awesome, I was itching to play. I had come a long way to party. The party hadn't officially begun yet but enough people had arrived that there were enough chances to play. So Tom settled the tab and we headed off to his and Nancy's room to play. Nancy isn't a hard player, but she gets the most out of her sessions. She's adorable, hot and sexy all rolled into one. I hope that, when I'm her age I'm even still playing much less looking as good as she does. Tom lost no time getting each of us over his knee and giving us our first party spankings. Well, Lisa got hers in Charles' room. He spanked me a little, but it wasn't what I would call a real session.

Tom said he was absolutely thrilled to meet the "famous" Cheryl Kay and to spank my equally famous bottom. I pooh poohed this notion. I am NOT famous. Granted, I'm all over Fetlife but I'm far from famous. He spanked me with his hand and a nice assortment of toys. It was so special for me to have my scene sisters with me in Atlantic City. I just can't say with words what it meant to me.

Tomorrow, I meet the "famous" cane of the famous Richard Windsor.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part I

My buddy, badsherri, and I were eager to get on the road Wednesday morning. However, there was s0mething I had to do first. I had to stop by work and take my Health Risk Assessment. This is a charming little piece of blackmail whereby the company forces its employees to submit to height, weight and measurement checks and also to give a blood sample. I had this done at 6:15 in the morning because we wanted to be on the road as early as possible. Aside from taking my wrist, waist and hip measurements, the nurse asked me personal questions about my lifestyle. Then I was taken next door to give my blood sample. I had just had blood work done at my doctor's office less than a month earlier, but the company insisted that I have it done again so their lab could see my numbers for themselves. Anyone who failed to participate would be forced to pay the full price for their insurance premiums. H0wever, failing to get an acceptable score would disqualify an employee from getting the discounts, so it's a lose-lose situation for someone like me. Despite all the healthy changes I've made (quitting smoking, not drinking and losing 50 pounds) I know there's no way I will pass it because they make this test almost impossible to pass.

Anyway, when I was done with that, I went to check the schedule to see what day I would have to return to work. But the schedule wasn't up yet. This isn't unusual and under normal circumstances, wouldn't even be that much of a problem. However, I was leaving town and my boss would have no way to contact me. So I asked my Human Resources lady to get in touch with one of the managers. She wasn't doing anything else, but she acted put out by my request. I finally did manage to speak with one of my assistant managers and she assured me she would let the scheduler know not to put me on the schedule until Tuesday.

After this, Sherri and I hit the road. We had already packed the car before we went to my place of employment so that we could just hit the highway right after. We did stop in a small town about 20 miles away for breakfast. I had had to fast for that blood draw so I was famished. The little cafe where we stopped was pretty busy, even at that early hour (about 7:30). The clientele was mostly pig farmers and construction workers. There was a small television tuned in to one of those extremely annoying morning news shows. Since the Boston Marathon bombings had happened only two days previously, that was the main thrust of the broadcast. It was depressing. But the food was excellent--hot, filling and cheap. Once we had our stomachs filled, it was time to get on the road in earnest. In fact, except to gas up, we didn't stop at all. Before I knew it, we were in Ohio. Seeing the "Welcome To Ohio" sign made me think of my scene buddy (and fellow Cardinal fan), Tony Trystero. I wished that he was making the trip this year, but events conspired against him and he had to miss BBW this year.

The topography didn't change much until we passed through West Virginia into Pennsylvania. And we were actually only in West Virginia for about a half hour, just passing through Wheeling in that little part of the state that juts out. But it began to get pretty hilly and both Sherri and I noticed that our ears were popping. Pennsylvania has a lot of historical significance to it. There's Gettysburg, Harrisburg, Donora (the birthplace of Hall of Famer and Cardinal great, Stan Musial), and lots of others. If we hadn't felt the need to travel on, we might have stopped in some of these places. But we couldn't. I tried to take photos of the amazing scenery, but we were going too fast to get good pictures.

But this gives you some idea of what the terrain was like. As we travelled further through Pennsylvania, we began to see actual mountains. Not being great at geography, I wasn't sure which mountains they were, but I guessed maybe the Allegheny Mountains. Whichever ones they were, they made our ears pop a bit. Neither of us got car sick though. I know what you must be thinking: OK, Cheryl, you saw some mountains, big deal." Well, to me, it was a big deal. Being from the Midwest, the only mountains I'd ever seen were the Ozarks when we would go to visit my grandparents in Southwestern Missouri. So yes, seeing mountains was an incredibly big deal to me. Wait till you see the fuss I made over seeing the ocean. Pretty soon, though, it dawned on us that we had been subsisting on the snacks we'd purchased at the gas stations where we stopped to fill the tank and that we were both tired and hungry. We were on the Pennsylvania Turnpike by now and there was quite a selection of restaurants and hotels. We got off the highway just outside of Harrisburg (where the infamous Three Mile Island nuclear disaster had happened in 1979) and found a nice little restaurant. When we pulled in, there was a lady there with a big van cleaning her windshield. She was transporting some beautiful dogs to a show out west and Sherri and I both stopped long enough to admire them and make some conversation with the lady and her travelling companion. Travelling by car can be isolating and it was nice to have another person to talk to. We went inside the restaurant and, even though it was getting a bit late, were shocked to see that we were the only customers there. An Amish man came in while we were looking at menus, but he didn't order any food. We weren't in Illinois anymore, that's for sure. I've heard conflicting views on the Amish people-- that they are both prickly and clannish and also welcoming and friendly. This was my first time seeing one up close. We have Mennonites in Illinois and they are not friendly. At least, that's been my experience. Anyway, we settled in to wait for our food and it was then that I noticed the "Life Rules" sign that hung near the door.

This is the kind of thing one would expect to see posted on someone's Fetlife profile, not on a restaurant wall so I had to  get a picture of it. Actually, I found it kind of sappy, but interesting enough to photograph. I didn't want to go overboard with the pictures, but I wanted to have some kind of record of our travels. I know people who travel a lot get kind of non chalant about it, but I don't do that much travelling, so it was a big deal to me.

Sherri and I filled our stomachs, while making small talk with the waitress. Of course, the television was on and the waitress had it on one of the 24-hour news channels. Again, the Boston Marathon bombings were the main topic. In fact, they were the only topic. Nothing else was newsworthy. Once we finished eating, it was time to start looking for a hotel. The waitress said there was a hotel right across the street that was "reasonable" and so we headed there after settling up the bill. The hotel turned out to be more like what we call a motor lodge. We went inside and the proprietor welcomed us. His experienced eye made us as weary travellers (or maybe it was the Missouri license plates on Sherri's car) and he was eager to get us settled in for the night. However, a room with a single bed was $80 a night. We explained to him that we were on a budget and a tight one at that. Now this wasn't a chain hotel so the man was free to be a bit rude. "My expenses are the same as anyone else's" he told us when we balked at the price. We apologized, but said that $80 was too steep for us and we headed down the road to find something more to our liking. Tired, cranky and worn out, we found a Roadway Inn and stopped. A room with two double beds was $50. That was more like it. Plus, a very generous man who was standing in the lobby when we came in gave us a $10 off coupon, so we ended up paying only $40 plus tax for the room. We brought in only the things we needed and collapsed on the beds. We were literally too tired to think at this point, but knew that a good night's sleep would fix everything. And it did.

The next morning, we had the free breakfast and were soon on the road again. We knew we didn't have far to go before we were on the New Jersey Turnpike and, when we turned on to it, our excitement mounted.

Despite having to ask a road worker if we needed to stay on this all the way to Atlantic City, we were getting really excited. But I was also scared. We were far from home, two women travelling alone. I'd watched enough true crime documentaries and read enough books to know what can happen to women travelling alone. But I knew that Sherri was much more savvy and street smart than I was. Once we got on the Atlantic City Expressway, we were home free. It was only a matter of minutes and the hotel was in sight. I had doubts that this was actually our hotel, but those would be quelled soon enough by the appearance of someone we both recognized.

Tomorrow, I'll describe the first night of the party :)

Yes, I'm Fat

OK, maybe this is surfacing because there's a huge party coming up in a matter of days and my insecurities always seem to surface just in time for a party. Usually, I have my stuff together enough that I don't even think about it. But lately (like over the past three or four days) my weight has become THE focus of my pre-party planning. Half of the clothes I had planned to wear I have discarded because of how fat I look in them. It's funny but I never used to particularly care how I looked from the front. Who was going to be looking at the front of me? Then I began to re-think this attitude. I'm a whole person...not just a bottom. I want the guys I play with at the party to know this. I want them to appreciate the whole person and not just the spankable bottom attached to the person.

I have obsessed about my weight most of my life. It started when I was a skinny child. I was self-conscious because I was so much skinnier than the other kids. I was a sickly child and it seemed like I was always down with something--measles, chicken pox, mumps, tonsillitis, pertussis (whooping cough), pleurisy, etc. Name something, I probably had it. I have a distinct memory, one windy spring day as a 7-year-old, hearing my grandmother advise my mother to put rocks in my pocket or I would blow away. That's how it started with me worrying about my weight. My grandmother also advised my mother to give me larger portions than my siblings got at mealtimes in order to put some weight on me. My mother, being a dutiful daughter, took her mother's advice. Somehow, I managed to equate my being underweight (which was actually a result of all of the illnesses I had had) with my somehow being a bad kid. I felt, in my childish brain, that was something I had caused and that, because of it, I was bringing shame on my family. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that's how 7-year-olds reason things out. I should add right now that my parents were blameless in this. Neither of them made a big deal out of my weight. It was only my grandmother who was bothered by it and since my mother loved peace and quiet, she gave in to her mother's nagging on the subject. My grandmother also had her own ideas about what to do about my hearing loss, but thank God my  mother ignored those. Don't get me wrong. My grandmother wasn't an evil person. I quite liked her. She was thin and sickly, too, mostly from what was whispered among the other women in the family as "lady's problems". Believe me, I had "lady's problems" and they did not interfere with my ability to eat. Anyway, I wanted to be a "good girl" in my family's eyes, so I ate everything that was given to me. Is it any wonder that I had zero self-control when it came to food? As I grew, I began to get bigger and taller. I got hips and breasts in large amounts. Then I began to feel that I was too fat. Thus began my fat odyssey. All through it, my parents never once led me to believe that they loved me less because of my weight. Both of my parents were overweight as well (even though they were normal weight when they married). Needless to say, I spent most of my 20's and 30's stressing about my weight. It wasn't until I entered the spanking scene as a 42-year-old that I finally managed to find some acceptance about my size. Then came Fetlife. On Fetlife, I saw that there were a lot of very pretty, young thin women there and I began to have doubts again. But I went to parties and had fun despite knowing that I wasn't the best-looking lady there.

Then in August, 2010 my world changed forever. I had a heart attack, which I devoted several blog entries to back when it happened. At the time I had my myocardial infarction, I weighed 235 pounds. I knew I couldn't remain that heavy so I had to make some very drastic changes. I got rid of the potato chips, ice cream, candy and other unhealthy things that had basically comprised my diet. I even got rid of my bacon and eggs, two things I loved more than just about anything else. I had every intention of sticking to this diet. But I didn't. When it came to food, it was like I couldn't control myself. Instead of losing weight, I got heavier. At my heaviest, right before I finally got a job in August, 2011, I weighed 255 pounds. This is the photo that I had taken for my state ID right before I got hired. I didn't want to put 255 on my ID so I lied and put 235. I sincerely doubt that I fooled anyone. 

 I'd managed to gain 20 pounds in the year following my heart attack. Plus, I had no medical supervision whatsoever. I was unemployed and uninsured. I knew I had to buckle down and get myself down something approaching an acceptable weight. By the time I attended the Crimson Moon October party in 2011 (during which my Cardinals won the World Series) I had managed to lose 15 pounds. But I was still way too heavy. It didn't stop people from playing with me though.

Poor Tony, I'm practically crushing him here. But we had a great time playing. I kind of sensed that, due to the Cardinals' World Series win his interest in spanking me was purely because I was a fellow Cardinal fan and it seemed an appropriate way to celebrate. I had no illusions that he found me attractive on any other level. But as I continued on in my weight loss journey, a wonderful thing happened. I began to see results. Clothes I hadn't been able to wear before I could now fit into. I got into better shape as well, walking home from work everyday. Sometimes, I walked there and back. I began to see a more toned body. I wasn't necessarily any thinner. But in the Spring of 2012, I posted my first fully nude shot of myself on my Fetlife profile.

It was nothing earth shattering. And I posed the shot in my own way, still ashamed to show the front of my body. Just a month or so before the photo was taken, I'd gotten my first tattoo. I was feeling better and better about myself. When I shot this nude shot, I weight 220 pounds, 35 pounds less than when I started. I had decided months before this to grow my hair out, too so as I got thinner, my hair got longer. I was still self-conscious, but willing to show a little more of myself. I saw ladies who were way heavier than I was being happy with themselves and showing themselves with confidence and I figured, if they could do it, then I could do it, too. I started to get private messages from friends asking me if I would please post a photo of myself sticking my bottom up in the air, and the "famous" Cheryl Kay bottom up shot was born.

This was one of the first that I did, hiding behind my glasses (as has sometimes been my habit). These shots also spelled the beginning of other kinds of photo requests and I began to have fun with them. The number of photos on my profile ballooned and so did my confidence. Occasionally, I would a random message from a stranger saying "Why do you think you're the hottest thing on Fetlife? Cover up that disgusting flab!" but I was just as likely to get something along the lines of "You're looking very good these days" from friends. I didn't let my detractors discourage me, but continued on my journey. Sometimes, I would get down on myself, but I was determined to be down to 200 when the July, 2012 Crimson Moon party came around. Try as I might, I couldn't make it. I weighed 205 when I got to Chicago that summer.

I had begun to do nude shots because friends of mine would request them. Sometimes, I obliged and sometimes, I would say "no". It depended on how I was feeling. Just a few weeks before the CM party that summer, I did my first nude bottom up shot. It was difficult because my camera only has a ten second timer on it and it would take some time to get my hair the way I wanted it (preferably covering my breasts or arms, which I was self-conscious about) and also to tuck my gut out of the way. Over time, I got pretty good at them. My favorites are bottom up shots in which I'm only wearing panties or a thong.

Again, I had to make sure that the breasts and belly were safely tucked out of sight before I would post a photo. I've kind of plateaued as far as my weight loss goes, but I've managed to bring my BMI down to 31%. That sounds like a lot, but just before I started this weight loss, it was at 35%. So I've gained some muscle. As I gained muscle, I gained confidence. I did shots from the side, sometimes nude, sometimes in panties or a thong. These side shots became another favorite. A friend of mine refers to these kinds of shots as "prudie nudies". I don't really show anything beyond some skin.

I made sure that my hair covered my upper arms (a problem area for me) and I made sure that my breasts weren't showing. This blog about my weight has sort of morphed into the evolution of my photos. But I wanted to show that my confidence levels have a direct influence on my photos. With the big Atlantic City party coming up, I'm sure a lot of photos will get taken of me (mostly getting spanked). Of course, as always I will stress a bit about my gut showing in my photos, but I won't let that spoil the fun.

Yes, I'm fat. But I'm also pretty confident most of the time. If you're going to the party, too come over and say "Hi" to me. Don't let the fact that I'm not a size two stop you from talking to me and/or asking me to play. I fully intend to have a great time and I'm not going to let the people who won't play with me because of my size bother me. Yes, I'm fat.

Attitude Is Everything

Author's Note: This is somewhat of a rant about something that I need to get off my chest before I attend the big BBW party next weekend. If you don't like rants or if you're offended by someone who calls a spade a spade, then please choose another of my delightful entries.


As the big Boardwalk Badness Weekend (BBW) party approaches, I have found that peoples' attitudes are starting to get to me a little. Fetlife has a BBW group and the threads are in full force, as you would expect with the party being only a few short days away. I've tried to be as active as possible in that group because this is my first BBW and I want people to know that a mature, highly enthusiastic bottom is going to be in attendance. And there's the rub (as the Bard might say). I somehow get the feeling that I'm being ignored. Well, maybe ignored is too strong a word, but I feel decidedly passed over. Here's the problem. Because of where the party is located, there will be a lot of young women attending. And that's great. I've said more than once that the scene has to go on when those of us who are older are no longer physically able to play anymore. These young ladies are all over the threads--bratting, flirting and generally just being pretty young things. And there's nothing wrong with that either. It's just that I get the feeling that their bratting banter gets the attention of the tops in the group far more than my comments about how much I'm going to enjoy meeting everyone does. One of the PYT's will post a bratty comment, followed by "running for the hills" or "getting out of Dodge" and the tops immediately pick up on that. They seem to be drawn to bottoms who show a slight amount of fear, compared to someone like me, who likes to play hard and makes no secret of it. In fact, this observation isn't new. I've noticed it sense I started attending spanking parties ten years ago. It begs the question "Why on earth would I spend all the money on travel and a hotel (not to mention the party fee) and spend six months planning the logistics just so I can run for the hills when actual party time rolls around? I mean, the actual agenda behind attending a play party is to get played with, no? So why play the "Oh no! Anything but a spanking!" game? No one actually believes that people really feel this way. If they did, obviously they wouldn't shell out the money for parties. I think a lot of that lies in the personality and attitudes of the players involved in this little charade. It's been my experience (and I could be way off-base here) that many tops like to think that they're giving the bottom something they don't want (i.e against their will, consensual non-consent, whatever terminology you choose to use). It's a lot like going to the movies. You know that what you're about to see isn't real. But you are able to suspend your disbelief long enough to get caught up in the story the filmmakers are telling. You play right into their hands. You know darn good and well that vampires don't really exist, but the special effects are good enough to fool you for two hours. It's the same with a spanking scene. The bottom acts like she (or he if you roll that way) doesn't want to be spanked. She might try to coral her friends into going down with her (called "getting thrown under the bus" by most brats I know) or getting someone else to take what they have coming. This is a cute and fun game and it's harmless on its face. However, these ladies (or gentlemen if you roll that way) are sending out signals to the tops: I'm a submissive who couldn't possibly come right out and ask for a spanking. Goodness, no. That would ruin the illusion that you are fully in charge and I have no say whatsoever in what's about to happen to me. Someone like me, who either can't or doesn't want to play that game, gets lost in the crowd of PYT's all vying for the attention of tops who need a certain dynamic to feel "in charge". I enjoy the attitude of tops who operate this way: You want me to spank you and I want to spank you because we would both enjoy it so let's run with that. Now, I'm not putting down tops or bottoms who need a certain dynamic in order for the scene to fully work for them. I'm just saying it exists and needs to be acknowledged. All of this is fine and good if you're talking about some kind of relationship. But really, it's a weekend party. Can we not suspend our disbelief for three days and just have fun spanking and being spanked by each other? All of that domly dom I'm-in-charge-and-you'll-d0-what-I-say crap has never worked for me. Sometimes, over the course of my spanking journey, I've thought it might be fun to try a scene like that just to see if I might like it. But then everything in me bristles. "Cheryl, honey, you're not submissive. This would never work for you. You would end up kicking the guy in the balls."

Now I know how this sounds, really I do. It sounds like I'm just another bitter old woman harping on young women or someone with an axe to grind against the whole D/s dynamic. Both of these are untrue. I have no desire to be young again (well, maybe just a little in order to experience the spanking scene as a young woman) and I certainly don't care how two consenting adults choose to conduct themselves. I just feel a bit left out because I don't skip happily along while the other brats are getting out of Dodge or running for the hills. The smell of fake fear in the air just seems to attract some tops like a Starbucks attracts a caffeine junkie. I have met plenty of these types at parties; you know, the kind of dom who swaggers around with an attitude of "I'm wearing my black T-shirt and carrying this braided flogger so all of you bitches need to fear me." Again, I feel the need to reiterate: the entire purpose behind attending a spanking party is to get people to play with you. It's not to see how menacing you can be carrying around your silly flogger or frat paddle or whatever your preferred weapon of choice is that you think is going to strike fear into me. I've also met the kind of dom whose distance travelled to attend a party is in direct proportion to his sense of entitlement. "I came all the way from Tasmania to attend this party so all you bitches strip and kneel." If you think I'm exaggerating, I'm not. When I say I've met the two types I've described, I'm being completely honest, as horrible as those types sound. But sadly, they do exist and I'm afraid that they both will be putting in appearances in Atlantic City next weekend.

This rant really does serve a useful purpose. It just might succeed in getting my head space squared around for the party. Getting this off my chest will more than likely accomplish that feat. I hate it when a party is approaching and my head space is so wrong it threatens to ruin it for me. I'm asking all of you dom types to please PLEASE do me a favor and check your bad ass attitude at the door. Be pleasant and civil and leave your cloaked misogyny at home. You might really have a good time and get more play in. Attitude really is everything. If you think that putting the fear of God into all of us bottom/subs (coz really, they're the same thing, right?) is the way to operate, you're wrong. Sure, I guess there are a certain percentage of ladies (or gentlemen if you roll that way) who like feeling just a  wee bit scared before a spanking. I like that feeling, too on occasion. But I'm talking about biting your nails to the quick and needing to run to the nearest restroom to whoops your cookies kind of scared. In my opinion, there's no place for that at a fun spanking party. If that's how you roll, good luck finding women to play with, matey.

I don't know why I'm feeling this way. Maybe it has something to do with yesterday's post? Maybe I'm feeling like too much woman for some people right now :)

Too Much Woman

Yesterday,  I was supposed to get together with a guy I've been chatting online with for about two years. He lives in southern Illinois and coming to see me would require about a two-hour drive. Ever since I first began chatting with this gentleman I have wanted to get together with him. He looks pretty close to my ideal--tall, stocky and with large hands. But there's a problem. We have made plans to get together five times since we first started chatting and every single time we've made plans, he's cancelled on me. Yesterday was no exception. He messaged me saying that something had come up and he would not be coming to see me. That was the whole body of the message: something came up. No other explanation. Before, I had always been understanding because I know that stuff happens, even at the last minute. My best friend in the scene had a top tell her yesterday that he had been in a car accident. I've gotten that one, too but I think, in her case, it was the truth. Anyway,  I messaged him back asking him what was going on and if there was anything I could do to help. I didn't hear back from him for a few hours, which tells me he either needed time to think up a story to tell me or he had taken the time to work on his courage so he could tell me the real reason he didn't want to meet. I wasn't long in doubt as to which one it was. The message came later last night. He said he was sorry for "leading me on", that I seemed like a nice girl (he called me a girl, despite the fact that I'm five years older than he is) but he just couldn't bring himself to meet me. He said the other times he had thought he could get over his nerves (or whatever they were), but he "chickened out" every time. Despite describing himself as a dom, he told me that women made him nervous. He said "I'm scared you're too much woman for me". So there you have it. A self-described dom telling me that he was afraid of the th0ught that he would not be able to handle me; I was too much woman for him. I drank this in. It took a long while because no one had ever said that to me before. What does "too much woman" even mean?

I went and took a hot bath, thinking of the best way to respond to him. Was the comment a reference to my size? I AM a big girl, after all. I'm 5'9" and weigh 200 pounds so I guess some men might find my size a bit intimidating. And we had spent hours talking about our mutual interest in sports, both watching and playing. He knew I was a big, strong girl. The man I saw on the Fetlife profile didn't exactly look like a Casper Milquetoast-type. He looked like the burly ex-college football player he'd told me he was. I had to shake my head. Surely, he would be able to "handle me", as he put it. Or maybe the comment was more a reference to my attitude? I am not a docile, meek little girl by any means. We had talked on the phone enough times that he knew I had no problem speaking my mind. Maybe that was what he had actually meant about "handling me"? Maybe, verbally, he knew he was no match for me? We had never had an argument, but we had disagreed on a few subjects. Although he said he was a dom, I told him in no uncertain terms (like I have had to do many other times) that I was not a submissive and that, if he thought he was going to order me around, he had better go find someone else to play with. He always made it clear to me that that wasn't going to be a hindrance to our getting together just for play. I have played in the past with doms and even masters and they all seemed to be able to put the role aside and just spank me. One man that I played with was pleasantly surprised he could enjoy spanking me without having sex with me. He had never done that before. So I knew it was possible that that might not be the reason either. Although it did occur to me that he was being dishonest. My next thought was that he was lying about being single. He always maintained that there was no wife or girlfriend in the picture (although always wanting to meet during the week in the daytime always struck me as a bit strange). He came across as educated, industrious and financially comfortable; all things that would attract the opposite sex. He told me he had never been married and, like me, was childless. OK, I thought, maybe he's gay. I thought this for all of ten seconds, knowing how much I hate people jumping to that conclusion about me for the same reason.

When I did respond to his message, after mulling everything over in my mind, I asked him one simple question--"What does "too much woman" mean? I told him I always got the feeling that he wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about meeting me as I was about meeting him. I also told him that I had always sensed that I was being strung along, but always chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. I had him to know that I didn't appreciate being taken for a ride for two years. If he had no intentions of ever getting together with me, why hadn't he just said so from the beginning? Was it a question of him thinking his nerves would be something he would be able to conquer over time? Or did he just enjoy playing women for the fool? I haven't heard back from him yet, but I expect that, if I do, the next message should be a humdinger.

So is there such a thing as "too much woman"? I know there are men who prefer their women to be compliant, obedient Stepford wives. But I mean, even the meekest sparrow fart is still a woman, right? Maybe I have too much personality for a man like this? Maybe that's what he felt? I won't know anything until I hear back from him, if I hear back from him. I have never insulted a man's masculinity by telling him "I'm too much woman for you." I have never felt that I'm too much woman for any man. It seems a preposterous idea to me. One thing's for sure--his response will be telling.

BBW

I can't begin to describe the feelings I'm having as the big Atlantic City party nears. The idea of attending was first put to me by a great scene friend, DrLectr, back at the October Crimson Moon party. I had wanted to attend a party outside of Chicago for a long time, but I had always lacked the confidence and bravery to actually do it. My best friend, Sherri, and my top, Mike are both excited as well. But, for me, there have been pitfalls and roadblocks. The first hurdle to be cleared was the party fee. It was extremely expensive. But good scene friends wanted me there so badly that they volunteered to pay it. This was unimaginable to me. But that's the generosity of this particular gentleman. The second hurdle was my own fear about stepping way out of my comfort zone. Chicago is one thing. I mean, I live in Illinois so Chicago, even though it's a three-hour drive, doesn't feel like it's very far away. Atlantic City is 1500 miles from my town. Even though a lot of people I already know in the scene are going, I'm still worried. Atlantic City is vibrant and sophisticated. I'm a Midwestern girl with very little in common with this gambling mecca. Chicago is one thing, this is something altogether different. So my main fear, after all the hurdles get cleared, is what if I don't have a good time? What if the people attending, most of whom are far more experienced at travelling than I am, find me too boring or not cosmopolitan enough? What if they think I'm too "small town"? These are the kinds of things I'm stressing over as the party draws closer. Getting the time off from my job hasn't been easy either. There are number hoops they make you jump through. The party actually falls on my weekend off  (I get every other weekend off) so asking for the extra days has been the problem. I had vacation time saved up for this party, but back in January I had to use it because I had my appendix out and before my short term disability kicked in, I had to use all of my vacation time. That sucked big time. So now, I'm taking the days off without pay. I'm off work this week due to fracturing two of my ribs while getting spanked on Easter Sunday. I swear, I'm the only person on earth klutzy enough to do that. Now I'm worried that the ribs will effect my play at BBW.

My doctor is confident that the danger of puncturing a rib will pass in a week or so, which is why she wants me to take a week off from work. But what if I can't enjoy all the wonderful play I've waited six months for because my ribs are still hurting? And what about the car ride? How will I tolerate that? Add to that the fact that my doctor doesn't want me doing my usual exercise routine so I'm in danger of gaining weight before the biggest party of my life.

I'm also worried about the weather. I have no idea what to pack because I don't know what the weather will be like. A lot of people simply don't care as their feeling is that they're going to be in a hotel fort he weekend. But the party is concluding with a boat ride on Sunday. It might get a bit nippy on the water, even if he weather is warm. I'm basically stressing about everything right now. The stress is keeping me from getting too excited about the party and enjoying the pre-party planning that I usually enjoy so much.

Many of the people attending have gone to parties together before and know each other well. I don't want to feel like an outsider. There are events planned that you really can only enjoy if you're more of a social butterfly. I'm confident and welcoming at Crimson Moon parties because I've been attending their parties for ten years. Now I'm the new person. I wonder if people will welcome me and if I'll fit right in? I'm not nearly as confident going into this party and that might affect the way I behave towards people. I certainly don't want to appear snobby or standoffish. But being nervous has a way of making act that way. So I'm worried that people will think I'm stuck up.

I've been planning and anticipating this party for six months. I've endured jumping through hoops at work to get the time off, my own insecurities have surfaced and now I have a major injury to deal with. All of this has served to put a damper on what should be a very exciting time. Hopefully, I'll have the time of my life.