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 :)