"All right, Miss Vanessi!"

Many of us who are into being spanked can remember the days before we made the decision to act on the things that, before this, had been simple fantasy for us. For a lot of us, movies and TV were a good outlet for living out those fantasies.

In the days before "The Feminine Mystique" and Womens' Lib, women were often subjected to spankings in the movies. The not-too-subtle sexism of the era drove many of the situations in these films. If that silly little gal would just get it through her head that I'm a man and I run the show here, things would just be so much easier. It was usually women who insisted on doing things their own way that ended up OTK in these old movies. There always seemed to be something about the woman that needed to be changed and then she would be "acceptable" as a companion or girlfriend. Despite some misgivings about the situations that occur in these films, when I was a kid, these movies were what was available.

The picture at the top of this post is from what I consider the "Daddy" of all spanking films. This film is so famous that if you asked a hundred people who weren't spankos to name a movie with a spanking scene in it, most would probably name "Kiss Me Kate". The spanking scene is so famous, that it often appears on posters and playbills for productions ranging from motion pictures to off-Broadway plays to high school musicals. But let's be clear about one thing. I consider this the most famous spanking scene in a main stream film, but not the best. This blog entry isn't about what I think the best spanking scene is. I'm just talking about the most famous.

Let's face it. The scene is cute. The beautiful, sweet-voiced Kathryn Grayson poking, kicking and slapping the hapless Howard Keel until he threatens to give her "the paddling of her life" right onstage. The practically dares him to. What choice does he have but to avenge his wounded pride (not to mention ribs)? Most of the people who know me well know how much I hate seeing anyone humiliated, and make no mistake...she IS humiliated. The audience gets more than it bargained for and laugh it up until the curtain drops. The scene is cute, as I said. Miss Grayson fits adorably over Keel's knee and appropriately overreacts to the smacks (which I sincerely doubt she felt through the heavy dress she was wearing). Ordinarily, I'm not a big fan of MGM musicals, but "Kiss Me Kate" has enough nice moments apart from the spanking scene to make me actually sit and watch the whole thing. At the end of the film, the fiery Miss Vanessi is appropriately contrite and encourages her fellow females to "meekly put your hand beneath your lord and husband's foot (not my favorite part of the film)".

Something about this film stands the test of time. The bickering exes, the Cole Porter score, the costumes, all come together to create a film experience that has become, dare I say it?, iconic?

Well, it is to spankos anyway.

The Cult Of Spanking

Having been in the scene for a number of years now, I was shocked to learn recently that I was a member of a cult. Yes, you heard that right; a cult. Like the Unification Church or the Branch Davidians...those kinds of cults with charismatic leaders and brainwashed followers. You may ask yourself "How did this happen and why didn't I know it?" Well, here's the story.

I have several vanilla friends who know what I'm into. One has even seen my rather extensive toy collection. Anyway, I was talking about the spanking party I attended in November and this one friend acted (or I should say REacted) like I had been drugged, wrapped in a bundle, thrown into the trunk of a car and then driven off to a secret location where men had their way with me repeatedly against my will. He said "When will you wake up and realize that you're just doing it because society expects it from you?" Now I have to tell you this friend of mine is so liberal he makes Nancy Pelosi look like Glen Beck. I would have thought that having control over the way I practice my kink would have his approval, but, no. In his estimation, any woman who subjects herself to "correction" from a man is throwing womens' rights back a hundred years. I had to correct him on that score. I told him I don't get spanked for discipline or so that a man can have control over me or influence my behavior. I do it because, to me, it's fun. I told him it was harmless amusement. He begged to differ and that's when he dropped the "C" bomb.
"The entire thing is a cult. Think about it. The men get everything their way. If a woman disagrees or disobeys, she can expect to be made an example of. "
I asked him how long he'd been in the scene that he knew so much. He said it was just observation based on mass media exposure that BDSM has had over the years. Oh yeah...the odd mention of BDSM on "CSI" or "Law And Order" is really an accurate representation of the scene. I assured him that no one forced me into the spanking scene. I got into it for the same reason many others do--I had a strong desire to be spanked and sought out a group where that could happen. He argued that that's the exact definition of a cult; a group of people who fulfill a need for other members. He went on the talk about the "secret activities" that go on behind closed doors; activities the public is largely unaware of. Most people know the sad story of the Branch Davidians or how the Reverend Jim Jones somehow got over 900 of his members to drink poisoned Kool-Aid. In fact, the mass suicide at Jonestown has become ingrained in our language. Anytime someone is accused of "drinking the Kool-Aid" the connotation is that that person has done something that's against their better judgment because everyone else is doing it and they don't want to seem to go against the tide. Was he serious? He's comparing the tragedy that happened in the jungle that horrible November day back in 1978 to what we do at spanking parties? He rather smugly told me that the women "don't really want to be there; that they're just trying to snag a man and they think being obedient is only way to do it." He was out of his mind and didn't have a clue. If he hadn't been a friend, I might have laughed at him. Instead, I made a grave error. I attempted to change his way of thinking by educating him about the realities of the spanking scene. I explained SSC and the "no means no" philosophy. He shook his head dismissively. Mere rhetoric, he assured me. He told me that, like Jim Jones, the people who run the various spanking groups and clubs have simply put the poison in something that anyone would swallow. He said they usually discourage individuality. You're expected to think the way the rest of the group thinks. I told him I had never gone with the flow. I had questioned and investigated and come to my own conclusions. He told me flatly that I had been brainwashed just like everyone else.
I guess he just can't get his mind around a woman who made a conscious decision and then acted on it totally independently. According to my friend, the people in the scene are all just a bunch of brain dead zombies doing what their puppeteers tell them to do. His comments almost made me question why I have him for a friend. I have known this guy for many, many years. Long before I got into the scene we and several others had spirited debates over long games of Trivial Pursuit. We had discussed every subject under the sun over endless plates of nachos at our favorite Mexican place (until, alas, they went out of business). He seems to forget all the things I taught him how to do. I taught him how to eat with chopsticks, how to load a 35mm camera, how to make homemade spaghetti sauce (from my own recipe) and many other things that I'm sure enriched his life beyond measure. OK, so I might be over dramatizing here. But my point is that he seems to trivialize the things I know. What does knowing how to use chopsticks amount to in this world anyway? Apparently, this guy knows the secrets of the universe. He knows what every person is thinking and what their intentions are. He really came across as arrogant. I had never seen him in this light before. It was eye opening to say the least.
I guess what shocked me the most was the fact that we had discussed my love of spanking many, many times over the years without him ever mentioning the "C" word before. Now, I guess, because I'm active in the scene, it just HAS to be a cult. To him, the scene is a place where chauvinistic men with a warped sense of entitlement hurt women with impunity. I asked him about the men who get spanked by women. He seemed a bit lost there. He stuttered and puffed his chest. Real men, he told me, don't get spanked. Personally, I have no opinion on men who get spanked. But I was shocked again by his reply. It was as if I was talking to him for the first time. This wasn't the guy who helped me change my first tire. This person was a stranger. A cult? This was what he thought? The more I talked, the more adamant he became that he was right. I was just too "indoctrinated" to know any better.
And so it goes. I thought I was pretty open minded when it came to most things spanking-related. But I guess I'm not open minded enough to deal with someone who calls a group of people I've had nothing but fun with a cult.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a tall glass of Kool-Aid.

Spanking Music

My old buddy, Jerry, used to have a saying: "If we all liked the same thing, we'd all like Adam And The Ants". Truer words were never spoken.


All I know is I get another chance to indulge my love of both spanking and music.





For those of you who don't know or aren't old enough to remember Adam And The Ants, a little background is needed. Adam Ant (born Stuart Goddard) formed his group, The Ants, in the late 70's. They were famous for a couple of things. First, they were one of the few bands I'd seen (apart from the Alman Brothers and .38 Special) with two drummers. Secondly, they were what used to be called a "costume band", with outfits that were 18th century meets 80's New Wave.

Adam certainly had the BDSM penchant for costuming and leather. My first exposure to this rather interesting English band was through MTV in 1982. I loved the video for "Stand And Deliver" so my friend, Jerry, got me a copy through an import record shop in California. The day it arrived, I ripped open the package and put it on my turntable (this was before CD's mind you). Once I played the song a few times and looked at the gorgeous picture sleeve, I flipped the record over and played the B-side.

In those days, English bands had a habit of putting a song on the B-sides of their records that wasn't on the LP so it was a nice bonus. The song was called "Beat My Guest" and from the first line, I knew it was about spanking. Or, more accurately, beating.

"Well, tie me up, punish me with a stick."

Oh, this was interesting. I was 21 and in no way was I yelling to the world about my love of spanking. Not at that time. I played the song on headphones so my parents wouldn't hear it. Then I heard the refrain:

"Well, I'm black and blue, baby, I love you.

Be your dog, just don't flog.

Yes, and hear me plead, make me bleed."

I knew Adam must be into some pretty dark things. I began to buy up whatever I could get from this band. The fact that Adam, with his patrician features and high cheek bones, was pretty easy to look at made it all the better. I bought their two best knows albums, "Kings Of The Wild Frontier" and "Prince Charming". Then I was lucky enough to find their first LP, called "Dirk Wears White Socks" (a nod to British actor Dirk Bogarde). On that very first LP was a song called "Whip In My Valise". The entire song is about spanking, caning and whipping. My gosh, Adam even says the word! Although, the British use the word smacking and not spanking. Maybe he wanted to sound more American? Not too sure. I'd known for awhile that spanking existed in music. I'd heard "Bad Boys Get Spanked" from The Pretender's second LP. I was suitably scandalized. Didn't Chrissy know that boys DO the spanking, not get them? At least Madonna got it right with "Hanky Panky", about a woman's need to get spanked. But back then, hearing "Beat My Guest" for the first time, I was so shocked. Someone was actually singing about something I longed to do (although I didn't want to bleed, thank you). I suppose nowadays, it's much more accepted and mainstream to sing about being into spanking or BDSM. But back then, it was totally new, at least to me.

I'd be glad to hear of any songs my readers might want to discuss on this topic. Not time to write more unfortunately. Have a spanking good day, everyone.

Our Need And Desire Party Report Part II

When I awoke the next morning, my first concern was for Cigi. Because of some of the meds she's on, she has what I call "morning sickness". The nausea is worst when she first wakes up and then fades as the morning progresses. By nine A.M. she felt good enough to go get some breakfast. Like most hotels, this one offered a free breakfast until 10 o'clock. There were all the usual items---eggs, bacon, cereal, bagels, yogurt, etc. To be honest, the eggs were probably powdered institutional stuff and not all that good. But I was famished so I ate them (with ketchup on them, my usual condiment) and some bacon. I also had some cranberry juice to drink. I always drink cranberry juice at parties if it's available. This is to cleanse my system and also it's nice to drink something healthy after a night of drinking nothing but soda. When I first started in the scene and was attending my first parties, I almost always woke up on the second day with a little blood in my urine, an indication that I was playing way too hard. I have never taken a blow directly to my kidneys, but I think they have absorbed the "aftershock" of some very hard hits. I know I'm still a hard player, but I feel I have toned it down a little bit over the years. People have called me a pain slut and I usually bristle at it (I bristle at being referred to as a slut in any context anyway). But I have to admit that pain is my thing. I love knowing that I can take, process and enjoy a very hard session. So someone told me years ago "If you're going to play like that, drink plenty of cranberry juice." I started that at the first party where we stayed in a hotel and it's a habit that I've continued to the present day.

After a filling breakfast, Cigi and I went back to our room. I had grabbed a free newspaper off the table and was working the crossword puzzle. We were just sort of having a lazy morning. It had felt so good to see my buddy, Purple Angel, after almost a year, but it also felt good to see other friends I had missed from the previous month's CM party. Added to my good mood was the fact that Cigi was going to have another good day and I was a pretty happy girl. But the biggest surprise was yet to come.

We went to the party suite to see if anyone was there yet. To our surprise, there were quite a few people sitting around, still snacking on the left overs from the night before. An older gentleman came over to me and asked me if I would like to accompany him to the spanking bench. Those were his exact words. Well, I thought, why not? I hadn't played yet and I sort of wanted to so I said OK. I went over to the bench and got comfortable. He was whispering some things to me, but since he was on the side my deaf ear is on, I couldn't hear him. I'm pretty sure it was the typical dom stuff like "Are you being a good girl?" and all that stuff I really don't want to hear at my age. He's a good spanker, but a little "touchy-feely" for my taste. He's the kind that likes to rub your back and legs and stroke your hair. All that stuff that I lose patience with very quickly. I politely instructed him to stop doing those other things and just spank me. With that, he removed his belt and began to whip me. I was somewhat shocked because it seemed like he was punishing me for not letting him give me a spinal adjustment. I'm sure, in his mind, he was really bringing it. But for me, the blows were nothing I couldn't handle. When he finished with the belt, he hand spanked me some more. He does hand spank well when he's not engaged in all those other activities. I was beginning to feel a little sore so I asked him to wrap it up, which he did. There were wipes to clean off the bench and I grabbed one and wiped it down, which we had been instructed to do. He thanked me for a good time and I returned to my seat next to Cigi. I told her about what had happened with the guy and she poo-poohed the notion that he had punished me. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it (especially if I was wrong) so I let it drop.

Now I have to stop here for just a moment and give you a little background on Cigi. Back in the 70's I had some pen pals. One lived here in Illinois, one lived in Canada, one lived in England and one lived in Scotland. I looked forward to their letters as much as I hoped they looked forward to mine. Cigi became interested in the stamps that came on the envelopes. This led to becoming a stamp collector. It was a hobby she engaged in for a number of years and in fact, she still has her whole collection, in tact, just as it was so many years ago. She developed a rapport with a local stamp dealer, whose office was housed on the ground floor of a downtown office building. On one side of him was a deli that sold the best pastrami I have ever tasted and on the other side was the Nut House, a place that specialized in nuts. They had roasted pistachios that were to absolutely die for. Cigi joined the American Philatelic Society and, once she got her stamp with her APS membership number on it, began to receive approval sets. These came in a box and what you did was, when you found a stamp you wanted to buy, you would remove the stamp, then stamp the box with your APS stamp to indicate that you had purchased it and not stolen it. You sent a check or money order off to the APS and then mailed the approval set to the next person on the list (usually someone from your area). During the course of conversation, another gentleman discovered that Cigi had once been a stamp collector and asked her if she'd like to go with him to a stamp show at another hotel. She said that sounded like fun. I had some concerns though because we didn't know this guy real well. I wasn't enthusiastic about my cancer stricken sister going off with some stranger (whose last name I didn't even know). But she assured me she'd be fine and PA told me she would trust Cigi with him with no reservations whatsoever. So off they went. Meanwhile, since I now had nothing to do, I was invited to join a group of people who were going to a barbecue place in the next town for lunch. PA was going so I said OK. We were going in the SUV of a married couple and while we waited for him to bring the car around to the front door for us, the guy who was making a nuisance of himself (the one I'd played with the night before and had not wanted me to leave) practically invited himself along. He was looking for another ON&D member to go to lunch with and when we said we hadn't seen her, he said something to the tune of "I guess I can just ride along with you guys." It was going to be a tight squeeze with those of us who were already going. One more person wasn't going to fit in the car. Before we could say anything to him, our chariot arrived and we simply walked away and left him there. I know it was rude. But this guy never seemed to get the point. I hated doing that to him but we were in a hurry and really didn't have time to explain to him that it was rude to invite yourself somewhere. It was an absolutely gorgeous day---warm (for late November anyway) and incredibly bright. The weather in Peoria the preceding two weeks had been nothing but cold and rain so I was enjoying our little excursion even more than I normally would. When we got there, the place was still a little busy, with stragglers from the lunch rush finishing up their drinks and happily visiting. The music was vintage 70's rock (the kind they play on my favorite radio station here at home) and I was really enjoying the atmosphere. The food was really good, but like most restaurants, there was just too much of it so I asked for a to go container, which the waiter brought quickly. It had been a very enjoyable meal. When we got back to the hotel, I was somewhat perplexed to see Cigi lying on her bed resting. I hadn't expected her to be back so soon. She informed me that both she and the man she'd gone with had agreed that there was just too much walking involved (both Cigi and her companion were using canes to walk with) so they had simply come back. I was disappointed for her, as I know she still loves to look at stamps. But at least I knew nothing had happened to her. Even though I had enjoyed the meal tremendously and had participated in the lively conversation, I had had a vague, uneasy feeling about Cigi going off with someone we didn't know, even if he did have the Purple Angel Seal of Approval. It's just my nature to worry and especially to worry about Cigi. As soon as she saw my container of food, she opened it and began to devour what was left of my sandwich and cole slaw. At least it wasn't going to waste.

A little later, we returned to the party suite. It was pretty much barren except for the people who were setting it up for dinner. I knew dinner was a few hours off (anyway, my stomach was still full from lunch) so I looked around to see if I could snag someone for some play. The first guy I saw was a switch, who I remember from last year's party had gotten into some trouble for showing off his knives (the ones his mistress uses on him for knife play) in the party suite. He had had to be talked to more than once about that if I remember correctly. But I think he was feeling a bit more toppy at this party. He asked if I wanted to play and, like the others, I thought why not? It might be fun. First of all, this guy is way into scolding and other things associated with punishing a bad little girl. Ugh! I told him to knock off the scolding, that this was just going to be a fun little spanking session. I also had to specifically tell him that nothing sexual was going to happen and that I didn't want any "accidental" touching of places he knew better than to touch. He let me know he understood all of this. I think he was afraid I would beat him or something. He told me he was a "light to moderate" spanker. Yeah, right. I'm a hard player by most peoples' standards so imagine my surprise when, once the warm up was over, he proceeded to beat the crap out of me. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it because I did enjoy it. But it just surprised me coming from a guy who had just told me he didn't spank hard. He had a nice selection of toys, but like most of the others, his looked somewhat cheap and badly made. He had flown in from out of state (way out of state, if I recall) and had had to make do with just bringing a few. We actually had a really fun session. I was feeling pretty sore and a little floaty so I returned to the party suite. Dinner still wasn't ready yet. A friend of mine from Wisconsin was in the room so I made time to speak with her. She informed me that some people were coming to see the three of us (her, me and Cigi) later. I knew exactly who she was talking about. We had missed them at CM. After the CM party, he actually left a message on my Fetlife wall that his straps had missed us. So I had that to look forward to. We continued our conversation and pretty soon, dinner was served. It was really good. I'm amazed even after all this time of coming to parties how hungry you can get from being spanked or spanking someone. It's a lot of hard work. I ate until I was satisfied and in short order the contests commenced. These were supposed to be all in good fun. The first contest was the Cutest Panties Contest. PA asked who, of us ladies, wanted to come up and model our panties for the audiences' approval. Four of us raised our hands. Me, my friend from Wisconsin, the wife of my first spanker, and another lady who I had been seeing at CM parties for years. The four of us went to the front of the room and, one by one, showed our panties. I had been quietly confident that mine would win. I had been watching the public players and didn't see one pair of panties that even approached mine in the cuteness department. They were white with ruffles and multi-colored hearts. Not something I would wear under normal circumstances, but I thought there was no way I wouldn't win and I was right. I did win. So I got to come up and pick a prize. I took a moment to look over what was there and took away a crooked handled acrylic cane. It had come from Can-iacs, one of the companies that was co-sponsoring this party. I couldn't wait to feel it. The next contest was a Best Panties for the men. Let me tell you, most men don't care if their underwear is cute or not. Most of them don't even care if they have hash marks in them. All the men were older men and their underwear (and what it covered) wasn't even worth mentioning. It was horrifying. I could've gone my whole life and not seen these guys drop their drawers. The guy who won had won at the previous party and had been told he couldn't win with the same attire twice. He had been wearing a red thong and black thigh highs. On a woman, this would've been a very nice ensemble. But on an old man, it was painful. He chose the nastiest toy on the table, a paddle that was rubber on one side and some un-Godly material on the other. It just figured he would choose it. The next contest was for the Nastiest Toy. Three of the four of us who had modeled our panties volunteered for this all-important duty. In all fairness, I think the contest would have been better done if someone willing to swing the toys hard had done it. But I guess they decided to err on the side of caution. Cigi entered two toys--out lexan paddle and a razor strap. Neither of which won, I might add. The winner was this icky little toy that no one had wanted to play with. With the festivities over, I went over and asked my long lost first spanker if he wanted to play. He did so off we went to my room. He showed me the toys he had and it was obviously his taste hadn't changed that much since the last time I'd played with him. He sat on the edge of the bed and put me over one knee, just as he had done on that March afternoon so many years ago. He spanked me on my jeans to start. I could feel some stinging getting through the heavy denim. Finally, he said "Well, I think your jeans have been punished enough." He spanked me over my prize winning panties for a while, using toys that were suited to that position. We tried nearly all of his toys, except for the ones that I wasn't interested in. Next, it was time to go over the bed for some really good strapping. He took some pictures for me.

When I asked why he hadn't caned me, he replied that he hadn't been able to find them after a recent move. Since we were in my room and my toy bags were right behind him, I invited him to use one of mine. I remembered why I had fallen in love with the cane. He had been the one who introduced me to it. After an awesome caning, it was time to wrap it up. I was so sore I could hardly move. That's what had really been missing from this party--someone who could really spank and do it really well. Hard is one thing and I don't knock hard because it's what I like. But there's more to it than that. There's technique and there's communication.

When I was finished playing with him, I went back to the party suite. Cigi was gone, off playing, I assumed. I had played the previous year with a lady top who came with her husband from Wisconsin and they were both here again. I wanted to play with the lady badly. We had had a very good public scene at that other party and I figured having a whole year to improve upon her technique, it would be even more fun to play with her. I went over and asked her if she wanted to play, but she was waiting for her husband to come back to the party from work and wanted to be there when he returned. So I waited. It turned out that I had to wait about two hours for him to come back...his job was in Wisconsin. When I saw him walk into the party suite, she was really happy to see him. I went over and hugged him and asked him how his trip had been. I didn't want to keep him from his wife, but I just wanted to welcome him back. I hadn't gotten to talk to him the previous night. When the wife had had time to see him, she beckoned me over and told me we could play now. So off the three of us went to our room. Cigi arrived soon afterwards so we had a nice little party in our room. The lady top was unwilling to spank me as hard as I wanted her to. She said "but, my love, you're so sore now. It wouldn't be very responsible of me." So we played fairly lightly. Then an unfortunate thing happened. There was a knock on the door. I was lying on the bed with my pants down. It could've been anyone at the door. It was the worst person it could possibly have been--it was that guy who was a pain in the ass. Apparently, Cigi and Purple were supposed to double him. I could see the lady top's face and she was unhappy with him being there and with our scene being broken up. She had wanted to watch Cigi spank her husband. Instead, we were treated to Cigi and PA doubling this obnoxious buffoon. His winy attitude wasn't the worst part of the scene. That would be the fart he let in the middle of the whole thing. It stank up the entire room for a long time. I think if you're going to do that, you should warn others in the room that you're about to let one and it's going to smell really bad. But no, there was no warning. When PA and Cigi got tired of topping him, the lady top took over. Unlike my sister and my friend, this lady had no health problems that kept her from unloading on him, which she did. But I was somewhat jealous. I had wanted her to spank me that hard. She really put this guy through his paces. Finally, he left. I was so happy to finally have him leave. I know this sounds rude. But he was just the sort of person who gets on my nerves. I couldn't wait to Febreeze the room. You have to know that, since Cigi and I live in a two room apartment with three cats, our world turns on Febreeze. To me, it's one the greatest things ever invented.

About that time, there was another knock on the door. It was our friend, Freckles, who had come to see us and our friend, S. She was trying to get her top to come to the hotel so we could all play. Well, when Freckles arrived, she saw the lady top's husband there and they sort of conducted an impromptu belly dancing class, complete with zils (those symbol-like things they wear on their hands). We had a good time watching her trying to exhort him with cries of "pretty hands". It was a riot! She even made a little movie. It was very cute. Then she called S and had her come to our room. It really looked like her top wasn't going to make it. So while we were visiting (the talk ran the gamut from bras to toys) the phone rang. It was her top and he was on his way! She told him he'd better hurry because "you have a couple of twins here that are fading fast!" He got there about ten minutes later. I was really happy to see him. It made the party for me. We decided to go to S's room. Cigi, unfortunately, couldn't join us. Her stomach was in kind of bad shape. The top hugged Cigi and kissed her goodbye, telling her to get some sleep.

The rest of us headed off to S's room to play. This particular top has to whole thing going for him---good looking, sense of humor, listens well and spanks hard. He's one of my absolute favorites even though he's 20 years younger than I am. We spent about two hours getting spanked, strapped and paddled with a frat paddle.

It was the most awesome part of the whole party for me. I know Cigi was disappointed that she'd had to beg off and he regretted it, too. But he understood that she just didn't have the stamina that the rest of us have. But to be honest, I would probably get off my deathbed to play with this guy. By the time I called it a night, I was so sore and so tired I could barely drag myself to my room. How I managed I really don't remember. But I had the satisfaction of knowing that the party had ended on a high note for me. I slept soundly that night (mostly on my stomach, I can assure you) and didn't even bother to wake Cigi for breakfast. I snuck down to the lobby for some quick food and happened to run into my two cohorts from the night before. They asked if I wanted to go to IHOP with them but I had to decline since I had to get packed for the trip home.

I was sorry to see this party end. It was really a great party, made all the better by the appearance of one of my favorite tops. Hopefully, it won't be two months before I blog again.

Our Need And Desire Party Report Part I

Before I fill you in on all the details of my party weekend, let me apologize to those who read this blog for the fact that I haven't made a new entry in more than two months. I'm so sorry. Maybe I should be spanked for that? Suffice to say that life had taken up more of my time than I wanted it to. But I'm back now and with a party report to boot.

For those of you who don't know, the Our Need And Desire group is run by my dear friend, Purple Angel. She has had some health issues lately so I was really anxious to see her, let alone party. We'd missed Crimson Moon so this was sort of like a make up weekend for that. It was an awesome weekend.

First off, Cigi had a doctor appointment that morning so it was up early for us. It was the whole shebang this time---labs, see the doctor, and an IV drip of Zometa, which they give her for her bones. We expected to be out by noon, but it was almost one before we got home (and, of course, I wasn't done packing yet!). The lady who drove us was my nephew's sometime girlfriend but since she lives with my sister and brother-in-law, they are still on friendly terms. She was absolutely wonderful, carrying some of our bags down to the car for us (our toy bags!) and making sure Cigi was comfortable in the backseat before we took off. Because it was after 2 pm before we hit the road, we did encounter some traffic as we neared the hotel. However, it wasn't as bad going in as it looked like it was going out. I secretly felt bad for her because the return trip was going to be hellacious. But I didn't think about that as we approached the hotel. I was too excited about seeing my friend, Purple, again. I hadn't seen her since she came to stay with us after Cigi's knee surgery the previous December so we had a lot of catching up to do.

I had some catching up to do with someone else as well. About a month before the party, I saw that the man who had given me my very first adult spanking was also attending. It had been almost five years since I'd seen him and I was excited about the prospect of seeing him and, hopefully, playing with him again.

Now I related in my July Crimson Moon report what a hassle check in had been for that party. Here, there was none of that. This was probably due to the fact that I reserved the room personally whereas, for CM someone else had booked the room. When we got to our room, it was perfect. It had two double beds and was clean as a whistle. I love this hotel. It's not fancy, but it's perfect for spanking parties. I'm not one of those people that needs a $500-a-night room to spank in. Cigi and I got unpacked and then I took a bath. With the morning being taken up with her appointment, there simply hadn't been time to do this at home. I go with her to her appointments whenever I can because I don't want to have regrets later that I wasn't there for her when she needed me. But we actually got good news that day--her tumor markers were down for the first time in almost a year. So Cigi and I were both feeling particularly good that day. Since she had been smart and bathed and shaved the night before, she was ready to go long before I was. By the time I got cleaned up and got my face put on, she had already been in the party room for a while. She had seen our friend, Purple Angel, and others who had been worried about her (many people who attend ON&D are also CMer's) since we'd missed the Crimson Moon party. I caught up with everyone, including that man who had given me my first spanking. But he wasn't the first person I played with. The first man I played with was a switch who had come from out of state to attend and was only going to be there for one night. He had come with another woman, who I was meeting for the first time. When he asked me to play, he invited his companion to join us. I had a feeling she would've been jealous had he not invited her. First he spanked me; over my jeans at first, then on the bare. The woman watched his every move. Then she spanked her, using some of my toys, which I'd brought with me. Then she spanked him (he was a switch, after all). I would've enjoyed the scene a lot more if she hadn't been there. Now don't misunderstand when I say that. I have no problem with other people being in the room when I play. It was her jealous eye that bothered me. She literally watched every move he made while he spanked me. I have to admit I was a little uncomfortable with the whole thing and was glad when it was over. Not only had he had to watch his every move he had to be careful about what he said, too. I didn't get the vibe that they were a couple...but she sure seemed to want me to get that impression.

I went back to the party room and got something to eat. We had stopped at an Arby's on the way, but that had been hours ago. I was famished by this time. One thing I'll credit my friend PA for and that is that her parties always have good food. I mean, what's a party without stuff to munch on? It seemed everything was available. I had a croissant with turkey, cheese and lettuce on it. I added mayo myself because I hate dry sandwiches. There were chips and crudites and sweets and almost anything else you'd want at a party, including plenty of soft drinks and water. Purple Angel had called me the day before (when I was at work) and left me a message letting me know that she would have Mountain Dew available because she knew we like it. So of course, I grabbed one. I don't know who catered the food but it was wonderful. I kept an eye on Cigi, making sure she ate something, too. When she doesn't have an appetite, it's not a good sign. She had dropped 40 pounds since the previous year's party. But she was eating and laughing so I figured all was well with her. That helped me enjoy the party even more; knowing I didn't have to worry about her. She calls this behavior "hovering" and it's something she hates so I try really hard not to do it. But there are times when I just can't help it. Like when she isn't getting around as well and needs her cane to walk with or, as I said, when she doesn't have an appetite. Loss of appetite in a cancer patient isn't good. But we weren't thinking about any of that on this particular night. The mood in the party room was happy and joyous and so we got into the spirit, too. There was happy chatter and the sound of food being devoured. Every once in a while, someone would decide to avail themselves of the spanking bench that was set up in one corner of the room. It was the same spanking bench we'd seen and used at the July CM party. It was wide and soft and really comfortable. I made up my mind to play on it at least once before the weekend was up. When I went over to throw out my trash, I got another offer to play. My stomach was full but not dangerously so so I said OK. This guy was someone I had totally avoided at the previous year's party. He looked mean and dirty to me. I think someone must have had a little talk with him because, while he still appeared fairly grubby, his demeanor was much more friendly. He hadn't even approached me at last year's party. I got the impression he expected the ladies to do the asking. But I had made up my mind to be more sociable at this party. I was going to give everyone a chance. I might not play with everyone who asks me, but I was at least going to give them a chance. Looking back, I can see that, at some parties, my behavior was less than welcoming. Realizing, of course, that I have the right to play with whom I want to play with and to refuse those I don't, that doesn't give me the right to be rude. So when this guy asked me to play, I thought "Why not?" and off we went. When we got to his room, he showed me his toys. He was obviously very proud of them. He had flown in so he hadn't been able to bring all of his toys, so he said he'd brought a little of everything. We talked about his medical infirmities (caused by advancing age) and about Cigi's issues. He asked what toys I wanted used on me. There hadn't been a lot to choose from. All of them looked cheap and a few looked very poorly made. Probably hand made. But I didn't want to insult him. Maybe just paying the party fee, buying a round trip plane ticket and paying for two nights in a hotel had been all he could afford. I picked a few of the less dangerous-looking toys he offered and we got underway. He was a dominant and made no bones about it. I told him I wasn't a sub and made no bones about that either. He told me, rather condescendingly, that "Young ladies who get spanked are submissive, at least for the time they're being spanked." I tried really hard not to laugh at this uninformed opinion. Instead, I told him that submissives have the desire to serve and be pleasing in their hearts. I don't have any of that. I just like to be spanked. He chuckled and told me I could live in my denial if I wanted to. His dismissive laugh almost made me leave right then and there. Instead I told him he was entitled to his opinion and that it wasn't his fault he didn't know any better. But I told him it was a pity he didn't make an effort to better inform himself before making generalizations. He said "I'm an old dog. I can't learn new tricks now." Well, that was fair enough, I supposed. But that still didn't make it right for him to subscribe to the old "any young lady who gets spanked is submissive" argument. He treated me like a sub in training during the entire scene. He also wanted to see what I could take, obviously. I think I had a higher tolerance than he was used to because he kept asking me if I wanted to use my safeword. I told him no, I wasn't even close to that, which seemed to disappoint him. All I could do was shrug it off. It's not like the scene totally didn't work for me. He spanked hard the way I like it but not too hard. His toys weren't deadly. He did need to improve his caning technique but I didn't say so. When we were done, I was heading back to the party room when another man asked me to play. This guy was a royal pain the entire weekend. I told him I had just finished playing and needed to rest. He then told me he had something for me in his room. I had heard this guy used ruses to get girls to his room, where, once there, they feel they can't refuse his offer to play. Especially once he's gifted them with something. So, in order to get him to leave me alone, I went. The party suite and every one's rooms were on the first floor so it made getting to and from rooms discreetly much easier. The front desk staff had just seen me come out of one man's room and I was now going into another. But they knew what we were doing. When we got to the man's room, he gave me a small box of chocolates. I thanked him and told him to come back to the party room in half an hour and find me. He asked me to stay and talk with him. I really didn't want to. But, like the other guy, I felt it was best to play with him or I wasn't going to get a moment's peace the whole weekend. I sat down on the couch while he sat across the room on the bed. I learned he was married with grown kids. We had a love of baseball in common so we talked about that. I really can't remember what else we discussed but I thought we'd better get this going or I was going to be there all night. He didn't spank half bad, but he kept up a running commentary during which he wanted me to give him feedback on every whack. This isn't how I like to play. I like conversation as much as the next girl, but he never stopped talking and he wanted me to keep telling him how well he was doing. I asked him politely to please be quiet and just spank me. If something was wrong I would let him know. I never got to relax or truly enjoy the spanking. This was the reason I think most women don't want to play with him. Well, that and his whiny attitude. Once he was done spanking me he didn't want me to leave. He expected me to stay and talk to him some more. I told him politely that I had given him an hour of my time and that was more than I gave most people I play with during a party. He pouted but let me leave. I was glad he'd decided to stay in his room (probably to pout some more) and not follow me back to the party room. I didn't even want to be seen with him. He made me so mad. He has to be the most insecure person I've met in the scene. I was glad to let him see the back of me.

When I returned to the party suite, the group had thinned out. People were playing privately or some (like Cigi) had gone to bed. It had been a long and tiring day for her. On the way back from treatment that afternoon, she had vomited while she was driving (the reason she keeps an emesis basin with her at all times) and I feared we were going to miss this party, too. But once she gets sick, she usually feels a lot better. Some of the treatments make her nauseous and I try my hardest to understand what she's going through.

I only played three times that whole first night. I attributed that to the late start we'd gotten and the fact that their were few attractive spankers there. And by "attractive" I don't mean good looking. That's not really even important to me. What I mean by attractive is spankers I would find interesting to play with. That would change the next night.

Clothes Make the Bottom

Today I went out a did a little clothes shopping, some of which might make it into my suitcase for the October Crimson Moon party. I know it's still early September and the party is more than six weeks away, but because of the circumstances surrounding the July party, I didn't allow myself to get excited about it until the week before the actual party. This time, all of the obstacles have been cleared early and unless something awful happens, Cigi and I will be there.

For me, buying new clothes is one of life's simple pleasures. I'm not a shopaholic by any means (I would have to have an unlimited amount of funds for that) but I do enjoy it if there's a party lurking. I think about what I'll be wearing and how I will look getting spanked in it. Silly, huh? This is especially true for panties but also applies to jeans, skirts and tops. I think my love of new clothes goes back to my childhood. Cigi and I are the youngest of the four kids in our family. As a money saving device, Cigi and I wore a lot of hand-me-downs and homemade things. Now I'm not complaining about this. My grandma was great with a sewing machine. I can still picture her at her Singer, humming softly and the soft snip of her scissors as she cut a thread. I loved to sit and watch her make something. She made both my prom gowns and I had to be there to critique every move. However, as a child, it was different. Grandma even made our Barbie clothes. So getting anything new was a big deal. I loved back-to-school time because (besides Christmas) it was the only time we got new clothes, whether handmade or not. I guess that sort of feeling comes back to me whenever I get anything new.

I know a lot of tops like a woman to dress a certain way. Some favor skirts or dresses that can be lifted for easy access. Some prefer a bottom in tight jeans or pants. I've met all kinds. I guess the way the woman is dressed sort of sets the mood for the scene. I think a bottom dressed in perky "spank me" attire is adorable. I don't go for costuming at all, but I think some women are extremely spankable in just regular clothes, without the roleplay/fantasy aspect going on. Sure, there are plenty of guys who dig cheerleader uniforms. Many like the crisp pleats of a plaid skirt. Others like sheer, low cut blouses to set the mood for them. I once had a top tell me "You walk into the room in your jeans and sweater and you're instantly spankable". It was the highest compliment I've ever been paid in the scene.

So, people, what do you think? Do clothes really make the bottom? Or does it even matter? I have said before that I don't have a separate wardrobe for spanking and vanilla activities. I just don't have the money for it. Anyway, I much prefer my spankers to see me the way everyone else sees me. What you see is what you get.

Good Girls Don't

In 1979, I was a senior in high school and disco was still king of the music industry. Never having been a fan, I was encouraged to read in the music trade papers that it was dying out. In late spring, while my head was filled with thoughts of graduation, an album came out that got my attention. It was decidedly undisco. Looking back now, it feels very retro mid-sixties. But in 1979, it was a breath of fresh air. The album was released on Capitol Records (the same record company that The Beatles had been signed to) and the LP was the biggest selling debut album for a group on that label since The Beatles. Everyone was buzzing about it. The big hit off the album was, of course, "My Sharona". But the second single was the one that really stood out for me. "Good Girls Don't" had everything in it that was destined to make it a memorable hit--good beat, catchy vocals, and explicit lyrics (a very big deal in the days before rap made cursing commonplace on records). It was all about a guy trying to get "some" from the girl at school he has the hots for. All very high school.
Now, onto why I picked this particular song title as the title for tonight's entry. In the spanking scene, most of us females (the ones who are bottoms anyway) have certain things we won't do under any circumstances and some that we'll only do with certain people. The song serves as a reminder that there are things "good girls" don't do. Of course, it could be argued that "good girls" wouldn't dream of getting spanked because they enjoy it. I know there are women out there who will do anything with anybody, but I'm just not one of them. When it comes to my body, I stick with my principals. The girl in the song may poo pooh this by saying "good girls don't...but I do", but not Cheryl. And while it's been 30 years since I got my diploma and 30 years since The Knack burst on to the music scene with this memorable LP, I'm still a "good girl" at heart.