Painful Beauty

Author's Note: Today's entry has nothing to do with spanking. I'm going to discuss and rant on the things women have done in the name of beauty over the years. If you're offended by frank dialogue or disturbed by photos of people with deformity, then I suggest you skip this entry. This is also not meant to be male bashing. I love men! But there was a time when it wasn't like it is now between the sexes...as we'll see.

"Don't go changing to try and please me..." so sang Billy Joel in his 1978 hit "Just The Way You Are". That's a nice sentiment, but one that couldn't be further from the truth. Throughout the ages, women have done some pretty horrifying things to themselves in the name of beauty. Sure, we also do a lot of things that we do a lot of things that we never give a second thought to; things like putting on makeup, dying our hair a different color (or if you're like me, to cover the gray) or wearing clothing that men find attractive. All pretty benign when you think about it. But take it a bit further into the realm of the more uncomfortable; such as wearing uncomfortable high heels, getting our ears or other body parts pierced, or getting dermabrasion or a chemical peel. All are a bit painful in their own way, but the pain isn't permanent. I remember getting my ears pierced for the first time as a 13-year-old back in 1974. The girl who pierced my ears used a sort of gun to literally shoot the earring through my earlobe. It hurt like heck, but I was so proud to have withstood that rite of passage. But we also do other things that are more permanent and a bit more extreme; like liposuction, breast implants, having our noses or eyes done, tummy tucks, buttock lifts and other cosmetic surgery. We do it all in order to appeal to men or to make us feel better about ourselves (because now we can attract a man). But there was once a procedure practiced on innocent girls that goes way beyond anything a sane and rational person would do. Around 976 AD, there was a certain Chinese emperor who developed a romantic interest in a concubine with very small feet. He once watched her dance with ribbons wrapped around her feet and fell in love with her on sight. Thus, one of the most cruel and nefarious practices of all time took hold--the brutal practice of foot binding. For a thousand years, bound feet were the ideal of beauty and femininity. China was (and still is) a male dominated society. Women were expected to be submissive to the wishes of their fathers and husbands. So when foot binding took hold, no one really objected. Who, after all, didn't want to be beautiful and desirable? It started, as most fads do, with the upper class. A girl in an aristocratic home was expected to have bound feet, a required charm for catching a husband of wealth and good breeding. Men in China found bound feet to be incredibly erotic and there exist to this day songs, odes and poems all singing the praises of women with bound feet. Of course, a woman could rebel and refuse to bind her daughter's feet. But then, of course, she was dooming her to a life of spinsterhood. No man of any worth would marry a woman, no matter how beautiful the rest of her  was, if her feet were unbound. Conversely, a woman of ugly countenance could snag a husband if she had the requisite tiny feet. So men focused on womens' feet as the object of their sexual desire. But there were other reasons why foot binding was such a good idea (for men):

1) Foot binding effectively crippled the young girl for life. A girl with bound feet couldn't walk any great distance and so they were basically imprisoned in their homes.
2) A young girl who couldn't walk without assistance wasn't likely to be sneaking off to meet her lover. So bound feet were an outward symbol of chastity and purity.

3) Foot binding reduced a woman to being purely decorative. Unable to hold a job or earn a living, her only hope of a good life was a good marriage. Poorer women (especially in the rural areas) also began to bind their daughters' feet in the hope that the girl would marry above her station. This ploy rarely worked as the foot binding was often started later in life in order for the girl to be able to work in the fields or on the farm. Starting at a later age almost never created the desired effect--three inch "Golden Lotus" feet.

One happy side effect of foot binding (for men) was that the mincing gait of a girl with bound feet supposedly strengthened the walls of the vagina and made sex with her awesome (for men). For poor  girls with bound feet, a life of working at hard physical labor on the farm or in the fields meant a life of great pain and suffering. My feet are normal and they often ache after a regular workday. I can't imagine how much pain these women endured. But there's an old Chinese proverb that says "There's a thousand buckets of tears for a girl with bound feet." The women would sit daily and hand stitch beautiful tiny slippers for their feet. The tiny shoes were required because the wrapping never came off their feet, except when they were washed.

What, you may ask, is (or was) foot binding? The process started at a young age, about three to six years old. The bones are still growing at that age and it was easier to do to a very young child, who wouldn't be likely to fight it. First the feet were massaged to make the joints more supple. Then the arch of the foot was broken. This was extremely painful. Following this, the four smaller toes were broken and folded under the foot. Then the entire foot was wrapped in bandages that had been soaked in herbs and animal blood to keep infection from setting in. As the bandages dried, they constricted and pulled even tighter. The girl would be encouraged (or forced) to walk on her feet in order to break the bones further. The process normally took about two years to achieve the desired look. Take a good look at the young girl in the picture. Don't you think a smile would make her look prettier? I'm sure her feet are killing her. The feet had to be attended to daily. The toenails had to be trimmed regularly to keep the nails from ingrowing or sticking into the bottom of the foot. But no matter how carefully a girl's feet were tended, they always smelled bad because of fungus that couldn't be eradicated. Also pus from infections and putrefying flesh would have to be removed. Then the bandages were re wrapped, tighter than before. The men who adored these tiny feet often never saw them uncovered. The smell would have driven them from the room and the appearance would have caused them to recoil, as it did me the first time I saw it.

Again, there's no smile here on this young lady. Those feet, to my way of thinking, do not look beautiful. But then again, this is just me. Apparently, women engaged the services of professional foot binders because they would allow their daughters' tears to keep them from wrapping the bandages tightly enough to get the most desirable effect. Foot binding was outlawed in China in 1912, but continued on almost unabated in the rural areas (presumably because they were less effectively policed). But foot binding was done away with permanently around 1949 when someone finally noticed that these women couldn't work and were therefore a burden to the economy.

While Chinese women were enduring the hell of foot binding, their Western sisters were also suffering their own brand of hell on earth. Sometime in the 18th century or before that, someone (probably a man) decided that a thinner waist was desirable on women. Thus the torture contraption called a corset came into popular use. Corsets have come in a lot of forms over the years, but the main function of corsets was to push everything up and create a high full bosom and an unnaturally thin waist. As with foot binding, corsets became a symbol of beauty and femininity but also became a way for men to impose their dominance over women. A woman who didn't wear laces, was considered "loose" and undesirable for marriage. But a "straight-laced" girl was seen as pure and virtuous. This idea really took hold in the Victorian era, an era when mores and morals were extremely strict.

Ladies of good breeding and gentle raising were prized as delicate flowers. Women who were forced to endure these devices had a host of problems to overcome. First of all, they couldn't bend over once they were laced in so they had to put their shoes on before they were laced in. Also they couldn't eat much. They usually carried something called a "nutmeg grater" on a bracelet around their wrist. It contained ammonia salt or something aromatic in case she felt faint or swooned. A curious piece of furniture called a "fainting couch" was also invented so that the corseted woman could simply lie down on her side and faint conveniently without having to remove her clothing (a no-no in Victorian society). Women who were corseted tightly had a number of health problems associated with the displacement of internal organs. Because the last five ribs aren't connected to the breastbone (sternum) the abdominal organs can be moved. This sounds unbelievably painful. On top of that, Victorian women also utilized cosmetics containing lead and mercury and face lotions containing arsenic (easily obtainable in those days). All of these dangerous devices used together accomplished the Victorian ideal of beauty, grace and sweetness. Pale skin was prized, which was one reason arsenic was used as a face lotion. The hair was also a focus of mens' desire. They seemed to prefer it long and wavy. I can only suppose what was done to womens' hair in those days. It was burned with irons for sure.

So foot binding and corseting are only two of the ways that women were pressured to conform to an idealized version of female beauty. There was no "doing your own thing" as we have today. But make no mistake: the pressure is still there. Women who fail to conform to society's version of beauty are usually marginalized and relegated to also-ran status. As a woman who doesn't fit the Madison Avenue idea of beauty I have felt the pain of rejection. But the pain of rejection is temporary and passes with time. The pain of foot binding and corseting was permanent and unrelenting. It gives me pause to wonder what kind of pressure was applied to women to willingly allow themselves to be crippled and maimed. Isn't childbearing enough pain and suffering in a woman's life? And even though we've come a long way since those days, I have to wonder if we really have. Is the pressure still so great that women still subject themselves to the pain of surgical procedures that alter her physical appearance? They inflict strict diets on themselves to keep as thin as possible (preferably to be as thin as the newest supermodel). Women in some countries are allowing a modern form of foot binding--having their legs broken and stretched in order to lengthen the bones and give the woman longer legs. Why do we still do it? When will we be happy with being the person God made us as? When will we be happy in our skin?

OND 50's Spring Fling Party Review Part II

I slept really well that Friday night. Usually, my first night in a hotel, I don't sleep all that well, no matter how many times I've stayed there. It felt a bit strange to have such a quiet room mate. Usually, we all snore the paint off the walls. But Sherri was such a quiet sleeper that I got up a few times and checked to make sure she was breathing. When I would see that she was fine, I would go back to bed. Because my work schedule is fairly set, I get up at the same time every morning. When I got up, I noticed that Sherri was already up. The shower had been used, so I assumed she got a shower and had gone to breakfast. I could hear the clock radio playing. It was tuned to one of those all news channels and the talk centered mostly on the NATO summit happening in Chicago that weekend. I got up and turned it off and laid back down for a while. Then Sherri came back to the room and asked if I was interested in getting some breakfast. I was vaguely hungry and asked her to wait a few minutes while I got dressed. After I'd gotten my clothes on, we went to the lobby for the free breakfast. There was the usual motley collection of people one usually sees at a spanking party--people with their hair still wet from the shower, people still in pajamas and people who look like they haven't been to bed yet. The "free breakfast" at the particular hotel isn't very good, but I was a little hungry so I fixed myself a plate. I ate just enough to take the edge off my hunger. I knew I would probably be eating a big lunch so I took it easy at breakfast. I had some good conversation with the other people at the table. One of the people Sherri and spoke with was a lady who also had alopecia, although not to the extent that Sherri did. It was advanced enough that it was a noticeable problem for her. She wore a stylish wrap on her head. I also noticed that her eyebrows were drawn on. She had a very good no-nonsense attitude that I thought was really good for Sherri to see. I so wanted Sherri to have a good time and have nothing ruin the weekend for her. It did her good to see that someone else struggled with hair loss, too. I happened to mention that I couldn't get an Internet connection in my room and one of the women at the table suggested that I bring my laptop to her and she would get me connected. I was loathe to put my laptop into someone else's hands, but I had seen her at a few of these parties and I knew her dom fairly well. I figured she was OK. So I went and got my laptop and brought it to her. It took her all of five seconds to get me connected. I was grateful, but I felt inadequate, a feeling I hate. But I hate not having Internet access more, something I learned while I didn't have my computer. When I got resettled in my room, I downloaded the photos I had taken the day before. The Spanking Olypics photo was especially good, I thought. I told Valorie that if this photo didn't get me on Kinky And Popular, nothing would. Now don't get me wrong. I don't need to be popular. I have a nice circle of friends and I don't need anonymous people who don't even know me loving my photos. I much prefer to get a comment from someone who knows me or has played with me. But, just once, it might be fun to make K & P. But oh well.
Sherri came back to the room and let me know that a few of the group were going to the Asian market near the hotel with Gatita and would I like to go? It was a glorious morning and I needed to get a walk in so I said OK. Apparently, Gatita needed a few ingredients for a recipe she wanted to make. So we walked the short distance to the Asian market. The first thing I noticed was the perfume display. I didn't stop over and look at anything, but it got my attention. I love things that smell good. We looked around all of the strange, exotic things on the shelves. There was also a gift shop featuring the requisite tea sets and soup bowls. There were also stuffed animals based on anime characters, posters of Asian pop stars, different kinds of chopsticks, and a few pieces of jewelry. On the way out, after we had spent way too much money, Gatita told us how great the food stands at the food court were. So the idea was put forth to come back for lunch. I know some people like to plan everything out for these party weekends, but I prefer to just let things happen. I've never been able to plan every moment of the weekend. When we got back to the hotel, Gatita let us know that she didn't get everything she needed and would be going over to Dominick's to see if they had what she needed. In the lobby, Sherri wanted a photo with me so we stood next to each other and someone took the picture.

I can't remember who took this photo, but I see now that I wasn't ready to be photographed. I felt fat and tired. Sherri and I are "scene sisters" and she could never look anything but beautiful to me. I'm sure she would say the same thing about me, but I've always been critical of myself. Anyway, as soon as the photos were taken, we headed back to our room. No sooner had I sat down and kicked off my Sketcher sandals when someone knocked on the door and announced that they group going to Dominick's was getting ready to leave and, if we wanted to go, we had better come on. We were driven in a very nice Cadillac by the dom of Valorie's friend, Patty. The car was a bit packed. I had a hard time getting my long legs in a comfortable position in the back seat. But we were soon on our way. It took a few minutes to find it, but once we did, it was no problem getting over to it. I'm pretty sure that Gatita found what she was looking for. I bought a few things I really didn't need because I can't be in a store without buying something. Then we made our lunch plans more concrete and the dom decided to go, too. By the time we got back to the Asian market, the food court was now crammed with people. And the gift shop was crowded, too. I forgot how populated this part of Chicago was. Even though it was a suburb, the city we were in had over 200,000 people in it. And it appeared all of them had come here for lunch. Since Gatita was the most familiar with the food court (presumablyfrom attending other parties) we let her lead us in choosing a stand to eat from. The place we chose was a sort of Asian version of a burger joint. I opted for chicken rather than a burger, although the burgers looked and smelled wonderful. I had a chicken terriyaki sandwich and fries. The fries were incredible, hot and plentiful. There were different flavors of salt to sprinkle on the fries to give them different tastes, but I opted for good old fashioned American ketchup. I couldn't decide if I was really hungry or the food was really good. I suspect it was a little of both. Unlike American burger places, where you might get old fries that have sat under a heat lamp for God knows how long, these fries were fresh out of the grease. These little stands cook everything to order. There was an ice cream stand, too but I was so full I was afraid that I would need to be carried out of the market and back to the hotel. My pants felt so tight that when we got back to the hotel, I had to change into something else. Because of the weight I've lost, most of my older clothes hang on me. I have a real problem with jeans. I have to hold some pairs up. The pair I had worn to the market were falling off of me when we arrived but when we left, they felt tight in he waist. Man, was I full. But when we got back to the hotel, the Vendor Fair was in full swing. I really didn't need any more toys, but I at least wanted to look around and see what was for sale. My thing now is jewelry. I used to collect watches and earrings when I was younger. But circumstances sort of took my mind off of that. I'm getting back into it though. There was a very nice lady selling handmade glass bead jewelry and I struck up a conversation with her. Apparently, she was vending for the lady who actually made all of the lovely things I was seeing. A pair of green glass bead earrings caught my eye and I knew I had to have them. Green is my favorite color and the price was right so I bought them. I was sick of buying cheap stuff. I was really beginning to get back into quality stuff. And, to be honest, I felt I had gone without long enough and I worked hard. So what if I wanted a pair of earrings? I had no sooner put the earrings in my purse than I heard a familiar voice. It was Big Jim. I have known this guy since I attended my first ever party nine years ago. He didn't look like he was sleeping very well. I worried about him and he knew it. He wanted to play and so I took him to my room and he gave me a nice spanking. I hadn't seen him for a long time and the last time I'd seen him he was angry at me. So we sort of had a lot of catching up to do. Unfortunately, I had forgotten to put the Do Not Disturb sign out (something I have been guilty of more than once) and, while I was still bare bottom over his knee, the housekeeper came in. She knocked as she entered. It took a second or two for her to realize what was going on and when it dawned on her, she said "Excuse me" and left. I'm pretty sure she went straight to Confession. Jim and I had a pretty good laugh at the look on her face when she came and saw us the way we were. I know this was mean of us and I'm the last person who likes to shock vanilla people. I'm a firm believer that vanillas can't consent to be part of a scene. It was my fault for not putting the sign out. Maybe someday I will learn my lesson regarding that. Anyway, pretty soon Sherri came in and I introduced her to Jim. He gave her a very cute spanking, during which I took some pictures for her to take home and show Will. I could tell that Jim took it easy on her despite her contention that she was a hard player. No matter how hard you play, Jim can play on a whole different level. Kind of like SuburbanSpanker.

Jim wasn't the least bit phased by Sherri's lack of hair. Probably because he was so used to seeing Carol without it. I think she had a really good time playing with Jim. She had to know that Jim wouldn't be one to judge someone based on outward appearance. They had a really good scene, I thought. I love to watch people play, but I sort of got the impression that I should have left them alone. After she got up off his lap, Jim said he would be right back. While he was gone, Sherri and I discussed how she felt about playing with Jim. She had a great big smile on her face, so I figured she'd had fun. A few minutes later, he returned with his friend, Matt. I knew him as the Violet Wand Guy. I had seen him at Beat Me, but I didn't know his name. Somehow, this scene evolved into Sherri and I getting caned side by side, something I really love.

This was a really fun scene that sort of went on for a while. I was amazed that I actually marked. It has been years since I marked like this. Of course, they didn't last. But it was nice that Jim took some photos for me to remember the scene by. I knew that Matt was participating in the Vendor Fair (which was open to the public) but I didn't know he was playing. I assumed that Jim squared it with Valorie first before he took Matt to our room. I also assumed that spanking wasn't his thing because I only saw him with his Violet Wands. It just goes to show that even someone who's been in the scene as long as I have still isn't safe from making assumptions. Anyway, this scene was great fun, punctuated by Jim's signature line "Don't you sass me, woman!" But the scene had to end and the two men went their way. There were hugs and smiles all the way around. I asked Sherri to tell me point blank if she had enjoyed playing with Matt and Jim and she said "Oh my God, yes!" I looked at the clock and decided that it was getting close to time for dinner to be served so I made the decision to get in the shower. I told Sherri that if she heard a scream in the shower, it was just the hot water hitting my sore bottom. I wasn't in the shower that long, but when I came out, she was still lying down and had darkened the room. I asked her if she was going to get up and get dressed, but she told me she had a headache and just wanted to lay down. Of course, now I was worried about her. I asked her if she had anything she could take for it and she assured me she already had. So I  went ahead and got dressed while she slept. When I was all dressed, I went to the public room and dinner hadn't been served yet. Apparently, it was running late. So I sat down with some other party guests and chatted and ate chocolate. I was still worried about Sherri. I went back to the room to check her a couple of times before dinner and she was sleeping peacefully. Finally, it was announced that dinner was ready. There was Italian beef (with really good bread), vegetarian lasagna, vegetables and fruit, cupcakes left from the night before and still plenty of soda to drink. I ate my fill (mindful of the huge lunch I'd eaten) and soon, Valorie announced that the evening's contests were getting underway. For the most part, I find these games to be tiresome, especially tonight since I was more worried about Sherri than about who had travelled the furthest to attend the party. The man who won had come from Texas, almost 1300 miles away. His prize was the toy of his choice from any toy on the table, except for the little paddle with the poodle painted on it. That was reserved for the winner of the Best 50's Costume. True to form, he chose the meanest looking toy that was there. All of his toys were ridiculous. No wonder no one wanted to play with him. This guy had gotten into it the night before at the Spanking Olympics with one of the guys who was spanking me, telling him he wasn't doing it hard enough and that, if need be, he could use one of his toys to "teach me a lesson". The man, a switch whom I've known and played with for years, was very polite. He told him to mind his own business. But the man kept up a running commentary about how this game was silly and no one was "doing it right." In fact, I didn't expect to see him again after that because he got his feelings really hurt. The next contest was Cutest Panties, one I always entered. There were about ten of us, including Gatita, who was wearing what we had dubbed years ago as the "Sista Panties". These were panties owned by Gatita, our friend Soxi and me. They were white rumba panties with small multicolored hearts on them. Here's a photo of them:

As cute as they are, I'm sad to say that these didn't win. However, a cute pair of rumba panties DID win the prize for Cutest Panties. Next, the men held their "competition" if it can be called that. The winner chose his prize and it was time to move on the Best 50's Costume. As good as everyone looked, I had no doubt that Gatita was going to go home with that adorable poodle paddle. She had really gotten into the spirit of the occasion, donning a pink poodle skirt with crinolines underneath, a cute short sleeved top and ankle socks with poodles on them. I was right, she won the prize without much competition. I know she had to have wanted that paddle very badly to go to that much trouble. The last competition is one I've been participating in for a while now. It was the Wickedest Implement Contest. Geekybaker and I each took turns taking a hit with whatever nasty toys anyone felt like entering. We had to rate the nastiness on a scale of 1 to 5. Most were in the three range, but a couple made it to the 4 range for me, even though Geekybaker only gave them threes. The winner was a truly nasty toy wielded by a female domme. I think some of the men felt slighted because, for once, the prize went to a woman. With the conclusion of the contests, it was time to find someone to play with. I went over to a new guy, whom I'd promised a play date as soon as all the contests were over. We went to his room and he had all London Tanner toys. Finally, a top with good taste. However, his technique was a bit sloppy. As a newbie, I told him he would get better with experience and not to worry about mishits. Those would happen. He never made one false move towards me or took any kind of a liberty. I actually had fun with him as he was gracious enough to allow me to top from the bottom. When we finished, I went back to the public room to see if I could find Rodney. Of course, he was there and wanted to play. I asked him to give me a half hour to recover because I didn't want to be sore when we played. After I rested and had something cold to drink, Rodney and I went off to his room. As an avid photographer, I knew he would indulge my desire for photos that I could post to Fetlife. As it happened, we took  some with my camera using his tripod and they turned out very nice. I got one of the best OTK shots I've ever gotten.

He wanted to take pictures with his camera, too, but didn't get any "action" shots with his. Just pictures of the results of his spanking. I tend to like action shots best. When we finished, I went back to the room and Sherri wasn't there. Now I was really worried. I looked for her in the public room and also in the work out room. All of her stuff was still in the room. No one had seen her either. Right about the time I was ready to go the front desk and tell them they had a missing guest, she came back to the room. I was relieved. I asked her if her headache was gone. She admitted she never had a headache. She said that someone on Fetlife had said something hurtful, though I couldn't get her to tell me anything specific. We talked for a long time and I asked her if she wanted me to have Rodney come to the room and play with her. No, she told me that her head space wasn't good for playing. I was kind of sad for her because she had done all this driving and had more to do and she had hardly played at all. I wanted her to tell me who had hurt her, but she dodged the issue. I think she was afraid that I might get physical with whoever it was. I never did discover what really happened. It was getting late and I asked her where she'd gone. She went to the IHOP near the hotel and got an omelet. When she was done eating, we went to bed.
The next morning, her spirits were much better. However, we got lost again getting on the road. I told her, when we were seeing the Sears Tower in the distance that I thought we were going the wrong way. So we stopped at a Dunkin' Donuts and got some breakfast and headed back to the hotel. The manager at the desk was happy to Google directions for us. Soon, we were on the road for real. As much as I love these parties, I'm usually ready to get home by Sunday. We had beautiful weather and once we got on the road, no incidents to mar the day. When she pulled into my driveway, I had a pang because I knew post party drop was inevitable.
The party was a huge success for me and I know Valorie was heartened by seeing the nice turn out we had. I can only wonder now what the theme for November's party will be.

OND 50's Spring Fling Party Review- Part I

The Our Need And Desire 50's Spring Fling spanking party is just a memory now. But what memories it created. Due to several circumstances, not the least of which was lack of funds, I hadn't been able to attend an OND party for a year and a half. It had been November, 2010 the last time I saw Valorie (the lovely lady who runs the group) and at that time, she was in poor health and unable to enjoy herself fully. That wasn't so this time. In fact, it was easy, when you saw her, to forget the physical challenges she had faced in the past year or so.

I made the trip north with my friend and scene sister, Sherri. Sherri is a pretty special lady. She suffers from hereditary alopecia (hair loss) and it tends to make her very uncomfortable in social situations. Sherri and I met at Beat Me In St. Louis (if you read my previous post you know this) and hit it off right away. She's kind of reserved around people she doesn't know well, but she knew with me, she could just let loose and be herself. Half the battle, however, was me getting the weekend off and getting my party fee in. I work with a lot of high school kids and that particular week happened to be loaded down with proms and graduations. Even though it was my real, actual weekend off, I was afraid I would be stuck working because we had six kids graduating or going to prom that weekend. I paid my party fee before I ever knew whether or not I was going to get the weekend off. I just though I would pay it on the off chance that I would get to go or, if I didn't, that Valorie would roll the fee over to another party. A lot of spanking clubs do this because you just never know when something is going to come up at the last minute and prevent you from going. Out-and-out refunds are rare or unheard of, but roll overs are common. Imagine my surprise when I got the weekend off! Sherri and I had discussed going up a day early (on Thursday) because Valorie has a tradition of having a communal dinner that night for the early arrivals. This party, they were planning to order deep dish pizza from a well-known Chicago restaurant. However, Sherri messaged me on Tuesday to let me know that leaving Thursday wasn't going to be possible because of work commitments. So I enjoyed my day off Thursday, getting myself packed and getting my laundry done so I wouldn't have to come home to it. Plans for her to arrive at my house at 6 am on Friday also fell through. She decided she had to get some sleep since it would take her between five and six hours to reach my house. I woke up Friday morning to a perfect day. The weather was ideal, not too hot or too chilly and only slightly windy. When Sherri pulled into the driveway, it hit home for the first time that I was actually going to make it to this party. I hadn't allowed myself to get overly excited for fear that something would come up and I wouldn't be able to go. I asked Sherri how the drive so far had been. She told me, since she works where there are a lot truck drivers, that they gave her great advice on what roads to take what roads to avoid. She seemed pretty calm and relaxed, unlike I would be if I had to drive that far. She told me she needed to stretch her legs a while and use the bathroom, so I let her come into the house. We sat on the couch and talked for a little bit and she petted our black lab, Jasmine. I didn't want to rush her, but it was after twelve o'clock and if we didn't want to hit rush hour Chicago traffic, then we needed to get going. She helped me get my bags in the car and we were soon off. She said having company for this leg of the trip would make a big difference. I can't really remember what we talked about, but I know we discussed how we got started in the spanking scene. Both of us, despite the almost ten-year difference in our ages, had had an interest in spanking scenes in comic books, television and the movies. This was a lot more prevalent in my childhood than it had been in hers. But there it was; despite the differences between us, we both liked getting spanked and watching others get spanked, too.
The trip progressed, with a stop at the gas station for some gas, food and a new pair of sunglasses. Things progressed really well until we hit I-290 and took our first wrong turn. Of course, we didn't realize that we had taken a wrong turn until we were about ten miles past where we needed to turn. So we found an exit and got off the highway to find somewhere to ask for directions. When we saw a Wal-Mart sign, Sherri thought this was a good place to ask. Actually, the plan was to buy a map, but they were sold out. So we asked one of the guys working there for directions. He wrote some directions out for us and then said beyond what he'd given us, we would have to find a gas station or something. Well, I was worried because Sherri was becoming frustrated and her irritation was showing. We got back on the road and again overshot our mark. Pulling into a CVS Pharmacy, we got directions back to where we were supposed to turn by a local kid who spoke ghetto. But at least Sherri was ableto understand him and we were soon off again. About five miles down  the road, I spotted a hotel that was the same as the one we were looking for. It was even right off the road that we were told to turn off of in the original directions that Sherri had written down before the trip. While she stayed in the car, I went in to see if we had the right hotel. There was a NATO summit happening in Chicago that weekend and almost all the hotels within about a twenty mile radius of the city were full. When I went in, I knew this wasn't the hotel (unless they had redecorated since the last time I was there). There were men in suits everywhere and I had to wait quite a while to get waited on. I was tired and felt scruffy among all those well dressed men. When it was my turn, I went up to the counter and said "We've been driving all day so forgive me if this is a stupid question, but is this the (insert name of party hotel)?" The lady told me no, we were in Rosemont. Well, I suspected as much because we were just off of Mannhein Road, which is the road the old Rosemont Horizon was located. She offered to Google directions to our hotel and print them out for me. Even though I don't get into girls, I wanted to kiss this lady. I was so tired and felt so dirty and dusty from being in a car for six hours. When she had the directions printed, she gave them to me. Just then, Sherri came in, probably wondering what had happened to me. I gave her the printed directions and we were soon on our way again. Just a few short minutes later, we pulled up into the parking lot of our hotel (of course, after missing the entrance the first time). To our horror, a large section of the hotel was being resurfaced and we had to walk our luggage the long way to the front door. But once we got inside, I recognized the place immediately. The first person I saw was Valerie. She had been sitting in the lobby, probably in order to welcome arrivals, with another lady whom I didn't recognize. I learned a little later that this was Gatita, whom I knew from talking to online. But because she never showed her face in her photos on Fetlife, I didn't know who she was. My hair was a mess, my clothes were wrinkled and I had no make up on. You can imagine how bad I felt because I like to look my best. And here I was meeting someone for the first time looking like something the cat had dragged in. I also saw my friend, Queenie, whom I hadn't seen since that last OND party. She had had some health problems herself since then (including back surgery). She was with her friend, Sapphire, who was attending her first party. They were dressed in identical outfits and I volunteered to take a photo of them together. Queenie looked great and I told her so. But it was time for me to crash for a little bit. My nerves were a little frazzled and I needed to decompress for a bit. I got us checked in and then we went to get settled. I was a bit chagrined to discover that I couldn't get an Internet connection in our room. I heard others were having the same problem so I assumed it was going to be something I would have to deal with all weekend. However, the next morning at breakfast, someone in our party would fix that. Anyway, we got settled and decided which bed we each wanted and Sherri called her husband to let him know we arrived safely. I decided to go get registered since it was now after 5:30 and the official registration time had come. I went to the party room and met a nice lady there who was doing the registering. She asked me what name I wanted to use and if I was a top, bottom or switch. Telling her I was a bottom, she wrote my name on my name tag with red ink (see above). I went back to my room and decided to change into my party clothes. I had purchased a purple outfit to wear because Valorie loved purple (it was her favorite color) and also because I wanted to show off the new and improved Cheryl. I had lost about 50 pounds since the last time Valorie saw me and I was eager to show my new figure a bit. The outfit consisted of a purple and pink Aztec print top and a purple skort (skirt with shorts underneath it). I wore my hair in pigtails, not because it made me look younger, which it didn't, but because my hair is at that stage where I want to wear it up in hot weather, but it falls down in a ponytail, so I put it in pigtails. White sandals completed the ensemble. When we arrived back in the party room, dinner had already been served, but there was plenty there. Fifties music was playing on a laptop on one of the tables, setting the tone for the weekend. Valorie thinks of everything and that's why her parties, though small, are fun. I should have been more hungry than I was. But I was also eager to play so, once I ate my fill, I asked a switch friend whom I've known for many years to play. He's always amenable, so we went off to my room to play. I hadn't seen him since he came to Peoria to spank me on my birthday. He gave me a very nice warm up spanking and we had a pleasant conversation. We were just finishing up when Sherri came in. She ended up getting spanked, too. I enjoyed watching her. She squirms and giggles so cutely. He kept trying to get her to say her bottom wasn't ugly. When we returned to the party room, people were eager to play. I'm not sure how the next scene even happened, but I think it stemmed from me wanting to make Sherri more comfortable with public play so I got over the spanking bench that was set up in the middle of the room and allowed men to come up and spank me. Somehow, this evolved into the first-ever Spankng Olympics. I don't know whose idea it was to hold up score cards nor did I know where they came from. But it sure made for a great photo op.

For some reason, I felt like the belle of the ball. All of the men wanted to spank me. The top spanking me here is a guy I haven't played with in more than five years. I later heard it said that almost all of us who attended could be considered "misfits" and that's why we all headed to Valorie's party, because she welcomes people who have a hard time fitting in at other parties. I guess the real test will come later this summer at Crimson Moon. I was really hoping this photo would make it into Kinky And Popular on Felife. However, either this photo isn't kinky enough or I'm not showing enough boobs to be popular. For whatever reason, the appeal of the photo is limited to spankos so it didn't make it into that hallowed group, Kinky And Popular. At least my friends liked it.

I met a number of people I had only seen on Fetlife that weekend--Steady Laughing, Gatita, Geekybaker, Wicked Enigma, and a guy who went by the name "beginnings", who will also be at CM this summer. In fact, I played with him a bit later that night. He's inexperienced, but willing to learn. Plus, he has a nice collection of London Tanner toys, which shows he has good taste and high standards when it comes to toys. I was nicely toasted and ready to call it a night when I was reminded that there was a Pajama Party that night. I asked if we were going to do each other's hair and make prank phone calls, for which I received a spur of the moment spanking from a nice top. Everything was fun and light here, even if the spankings were hard. I don't like a party atmosphere where everything is so serious. I went back and changed into my pajamas (being sure to keep my bra on as I had no desire to walk around in public without on one) and made an appearance in the public room. I also helped myself to some of Geekybaker's cupcakes. They were delicious and I had already made up my mind that I wasn't going to count calories this weekend. Valorie, Sherri, Geekybaker and a few others took their turns on the spanking bench and the night concluded on a merry note for me. The next day would be even more fun and I will write about that tomorrow.

BMSL XV Party Report Part II

I awoke on Saturday morning a little bit ahead of my room mates. I checked my email and looked at what was going on on Fetlife. Turns out, not much was. Once K and P were up, we all got dressed and dug into the food they had packed. Everything was nice and fresh, despite not having a fridge in the room. I hadn't thought about how hungry I was. It seemed like I ate a lot more at this party than I normally do at parties. Probably because I was nervous and eating is one of my favorite coping mechanisms for dealing with nerves. I know I need to find a better way to deal with situations that make me nervous, but this wasn't the time for that. I was worried because the previous night, I had only been able to get one guy to play with me and I later learned that that was only because the man was a sadist and he enjoyed inflicting pain. Not that I minded, but I thought he might have played with me because he found me interesting and attractive. I wanted to play more than once. This was a serious blow to my ego. At Crimson Moon parties, I have to budget my time so that I can get in all the play I want. Here, I felt like the girl no one wanted to play with. As we ate, P suggested I try to make some connections at the vendor fair. It couldn't hurt. I was desperate. We finished eating and headed down to see if there was anything worth buying. I knew WhyDancer from Canes4Pain was going to be there and I looked for her table. I had made up my mind to buy a whangee cane from her. I had wanted one for the longest time, ever since I first saw them on her website. When I found her table, I saw a few whangees there. She had messaged me to let me know she would have them. We hugged and I was happy she remembered me from the one CM party she'd attended. She helped me pick a good whangee and I handed my money over for it. I loved it the moment I had it in my hand. You know, there are moments you remember for a lifetime and holding your very ownwhangee for the first time is one of them.

I couldn't wait to have it used on me. I knew those little knobs leave the coolest marks and I wanted some. The other vendors didn't seem to have anything I was interested in. However, there was a jeweler there and she had some amazing vintage stuff. I have loved antique jewelry since I discovered the "1928" line back in the early 80's. The lady selling the jewelry was busy fixing another lady's chain so I looked around some more. Then I spotted it. It was a vintage blue bumble bee pin. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. The lady was sure it was either 1940's or 1950's.

I forked over the money for the pin and felt no guilt about it. I hadn't planned on spending any more money, but I had to have that little pin. I was in no mood to deprive myself of anything. But I also knew that if I spent more, I wouldn't be able to afford my part of the room. We decided t0 head 0ver to the lounge and get some lunch. I carried the whangee cane around with me with no self-consciousness. After all, we had the entire hotel to ourselves. The restaurant staff were wearing BMSL T-shirts. They all seemed very comfortable with us. But I knew that could be an act. Working with the public is a lot like being an actor. You pretend whatever you need to pretend in order to get tips and to get your customers to come back. I loved the wonderful food, but I was getting a bit antsy to play. At a spanking party, play happens all day long. I could always find someone to play with, no matter what time of the day it was. But I knew this was no spanking party. This was a BDSM "event". There might have been private play going on, but no one was asking me to play. In fact, no one even spoke to me unless K introduced us. Then they would shake my hand politely, probably trying to figure out why they hadn't ever met me before nor seen me at an event before. Then K would tell them I was only into spanking and then they would make the connection: "she's not one of us. Believe me, I came away from that weekend more convinced than ever that I'm pretty much a pure spanko.

When we got done eating, P and I decided it was time to get cleaned up and get into our party clothes. I had packed a cute short sleeved pink top and I thought my little blue bumble bee pin would look great with it. I was acutely aware that I was the only woman wearing blue jeans. Even at spanking parties, the fact that I wear jeans gets noticed. Here, it was especially noticeable. I stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. I ended up on a chair watching the proceedings. No one was paying me any notice at all. I felt invisible. I knew this wasn't my crowd, but I had always been able to count on a certain amount of charm to get me noticed. I wasn't allowing myself to be tied to a cross and flogged so I wasn't worthy of attention. I deserved to be ignored because I wasn't allowing someone to stick needles in me or set me on fire. I felt ugly and worthless. P and I sat there, considering going back up to our room and watching television when another woman came over and introduced herself. She shook my hand and told me that her master was an experienced spanker and that she had heard I wanted a spanking. She told me that, as soon as he was finished tying up his slave, he would spank me. He didn't have many toys from what I could see, but I was interested in playing. I love to play publicly and here was my chance. I had never played in this kind of setting before, but I was willing. He was younger than I was (a lot younger) but I was used to that. When he was done with his slave, he helped her sit down and get her clothes back on. He made sure she was alright. Then he went to find a spanking bench that was unoccupied. Since he was a dom, I had to explain to him that I was just a spanko and that I wouldn't tolerate being treated like a submissive. I had him to know that I didn't want any sexual touching and I didn't want my hair pulled. He assured me he understood and told me more than once that it was all about "what you want". We found an unused bench and I took off my jeans. I was wearing a thong simply as a security blanket because I wasn't among spankos here. He started with his hand. It wasn't the best I ever had, but it was a spanking. Then he progressed to the cane he had with him (since I wasn't interested in his flogger). His caning technique needed some work, but he was actually pretty good with it. While he was in the middle of spanking me, a lady walked up to me and said "Oh Cheryl, finally!" And I knew who it was. It was my friend, Sherri, who I had been messaging with for months. She told me she was coming on a Saturday day pass. I was thrilled to meet her. She told me she recognized my bottom from all the photos I had posted to my profile on Fetlife. She was so cute, just like I pictured her. And she had her husband with her. The fact that I was getting spanked when we met will be a source of laughter for a long time, I suspect. The guy finished spanking me and then Sherri got up on the bench for a spanking from him. Unfortunately, he tried to pull her hair and almost pulled her wig off. That put a damper on the festivities. It was very uncouth of him to do that with her husband standing right there, but I guess that's how BDSM people are. I told him not to pull my hair, so the next girl that comes along is getting her hair pulled. Sherri asked him to stop and he did. Then I guess he realized that we were meeting for the first time. The four of us went off to get something to drink. She gave me two little boxes of Charlie perfume (which I expressed a fondness for and thought they didn't make any more). It was so sweet and thoughtful of her to go to the trouble. Yes, it was a small thing, but she saw how happy it made me. We had a few ice teas and then some food (it was time for the midnight munch). The night before, they had offered us cold cuts on these cute little rolls and toasted ravioli. Tonight it was egg rolls and fresh fruit. The egg rolls were so good I thought about going back through the line for seconds. We talked, mostly about silly things, but it was so nice to have a real spanko to talk to. She admitted that her husband had only taken up spanking because of her. But I told her I felt the seed had to have been there all along. Once the food was gone, we decided to go up to our room where I could show her husband my toy bag. K wasn't feeling too well but told us to go ahead and go up. Sherri and I took the stairs while everyone else went on the elevator. When we got to our room, I opened my toy bag and showed them all of my treasures. Well, he couldn't wait to break out the toys on me. We had a fun scene while the others watched. It was great to get spanked by a person that was really into it. We talked a bit about Crimson Moon, which would be Sherri's first CM party and also K and P's. We decided to let Sherri room with us. She had decided to room alone, but that would be far too expensive. She was all ready coming alone because it was cheaper for her to go than for both of them to pay the couple's fee. She had been looking for a room mate and I advised her to put it on the CM group, but not one person responded. I felt responsible. So it was decided that she should room with us. Then they had to get going because her husband had to get to work in the morning. It was all ready past one o'clock and they had a four hour drive ahead.

All in all, a bit disappointing considering the money that weekend cost me. But I did get to meet Sherri and that made it all worthwhile. I'm not sure if I'll be attending another "event" or not. If I do, I'll be sure to take some real spankos with me.

BMSL XV Party Report

The big Beat Me In St. Louis event is now history. It was my first time attending that particular event and my first time venturing out of my Chicago/spanking comfort zone. I saw some things that opened my eyes and also had some exhilarating play.

The drive down was perfect. We couldn't have asked for better weather. We drove part of the way there with the top down it was so gorgeous. My companions were experienced when it came to this event (nowhere did I ever see it referred to as a "party") and I couldn't hide my nerves from them. My concerns were numerous. It was my first BDSM event. I'm a spanko. I don't consider myself in the BDSM scene at all and this weekend only widened the chasm as far as I'm concerned. I was afraid of what I might witness and afraid of what I might be asked to do. Since my travel companions weren't spankos, there was no real discussion about he differences. They will be attending their first spanking party this summer when they attend the Crimson Moon July party so the shoe will be on the other foot. I was also afraid that I wouldn't be able to find anyone willing to just spank me (a fear that didn't turn out to be unfounded). I knew enough about hardcore BDSMers to know that spanking to them is a warm up to other things; a side order to go with the main order. It's not the whole meal for them like it is me. I met only two people that I had met previously--WhypDancer from Canes4Pain and the violet wand guy (whose name escapes me) that I met at a previous CM party). Everyone else, save the folks I was attending with, was a complete stranger to me.

When we arrived (at around 5 pm) the entire hotel was packed with people, many of them dressed outrageously. I was accustomed to CM, where we have to be discrete because of vanilla patrons. Here, we had the whole hotel to ourselves. Clothing was, in fact, optional in all areas of the hotel except dining areas when food was actually being served. I saw only a few naked people all weekend. That first ride in the elevator in a new hotel (one that's new to me anyway) is always a bit nerve wracking. The ones in this hotel were both small and slow. I'm pretty sure the walk-in closet in my old apartment was larger. Luckily, our room was on the second floor so I figured I could take the stairs all weekend. But I had my bags with me (including my suitcase, which was heavy because my laptop was packed in it among the clothes) and I knew I wouldn't be able to drag it up even one flight of stairs. So I hopped aboard, hoping beyond hope that we didn't encounter any trouble. We made it to our room uneventfully. We were disappointed to see that the room had no refrigerator in it, as my friends had packed some cold cuts, a raw vegetable tray and cheese and also soda to sustain us. We ended up having to pack the whole thing in ice. Later in the weekend, they did send a mini-fridge up to us, but it wasn't working. Anyway, this didn't ruin the weekend. It was a minor inconvenience at most. We got our laptops plugged in and settled in for a bit of rest. I was a little tired from the drive but anxious to get registered. But first, K and I had some unfinished business. Because of something that happened previously, we both agreed I should be punished. It wasn't going to be anything extreme. Just a little reminder about something. I quickly got my pants down and K gave me 10 swats with a strap made from a piece of old conveyor belt. I got no warm up and had to count the swats (something I never do, but I agreed to do it this time). When we were almost done, I miscounted and he didn't make me start over, which he very easily could have done. But it was a party weekend and I wanted to play. He was mindful of the amount of money I'd invested and also the hardship of having to trade a weekend with someone at work. To be rendered unable to play would have been a waste of both my time and money. So we got that unpleasant business over with quickly and then went to register. Not wanting to take my whole purse down with me (because the zipper was broken and things had a habit of falling out) I stuck my ID card in my pocket. A photo ID is required at registration at all these type of events. There were security people everywhere keeping a leery eye out of for gate crashers. At registration, I had my first moment of panic. My name wasn't on the list. Oh why oh why does this always happen to me? I had registered a month previously, but because I didn't have a printer that was compatible with my laptop, I'd been unable to print the confirmation email I had received. The lady was very understanding and told me not to panic, that this happens sometimes when there are two lists. She sent me on to the next table, assuring me they would probably have a more updated list than hers and that I would more than likely be on that one. I walked on to the next table, convinced they were going to kick me out and brand me a gate crasher. But my panic was short lived. They had my name on their list and a name badge all ready made for me. To my immense relief, I slid the badge around my neck and signed the release form required by the hotel (a promise not to blame the hotel or the company that owned them if anything bad should happen to me over the course of the weekend). We then went to the lounge to get some food. I was somewhat hungry but not famished. The food did look good. But the lounge was crowded with people, most of them dressed garishly and speaking at the top of the their lungs in order to make themselves heard above the din. The food was really good and there was a lot of it. I stayed away from the sweet desserts that were offered and was proud of myself for passing on the array of cheesecakes and other goodies. After dinner, we headed upstairs to put our party clothes on. I had been in a quandary about what to pack because of not knowing what the weather was going to be like. So I packed both short and long sleeved shirts. I got dressed and put my make up on (during the course of which I managed to spill about a half a bottle of foundation on the duvet). When I got that mess cleaned up and they sent up another duvet, we ventured downstairs where the dungeon was just getting ready to open. They had a little "opening ceremony" first and then the music got cranked up. When I saw how everyone was dressed, I was reminded again about the differences between spankos and BDSMers. My jeans and glittery top would have been fine at a spanking party. But here, I felt decidedly under dressed. Most of the women (and a few of the men) were wearing corsets, fishnets, high heels and other scene attire. I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. No one approached me. No one even said hello to me or otherwise acknowledged my existence. I just had the sneaking feeling that, unless I approached someone, I wasn't going to get spanked all weekend. I didn't know if the men here, most of whom were doms and masters, were accustomed to women approaching them. I didn't know if a man with a collared submissive standing right there would be in any frame of mind to give a friendly spanking to a woman he'd never met before. But to be honest, all the men looked scary to me. None of them were paying me one bit of attention, but we focusing on their own little circle. At a spanking party, a new girl would be like catnip to the male tops and she would more than likely find herself surrounded by tops, most of them eager to have a go at a woman they hadn't played with before. As the night progressed, I found myself sitting on a chair watching some of the play. Some of it was interesting; some of it was hair raising; some of it was laughable. I'm not trying to knock any one's kink, but it's just not my thing. Of course, I knew going in the obstacles I faced as a "mere" spanko venturing into BDSM land. I knew I would see things that were strange to me. But I bravely went on in the hopes that I might catch the attention of one of the friendlier types. In the end, and just as I was about to call it a night, K decided to head back to the lounge, where the midnight munch was getting underway. P and I went with him, but more to keep an eye on him than because we were particularly hungry. K is diabetic and on these weekends, tends to forget his diet. So as we're heading back to our table with our plates, K spotted a dom friend of his and his sub. We had met them earlier in the evening but I can't remember if K introduced me or not. They chatted about the turn out and a few other pleasantries. During a lull in the conversation, I saw my opening and went for it.

"Do you spank?" I asked.

He blinked a few times (maybe to acclimate himself to a female speaking to him before being spoken to first) and told me yes, he did. Then K went on to explain to him that spanking was all I was into, as if I couldn't impart that information just fine myself. Maybe he felt that the man would be more inclined to play with me if he "apologized" for my being "just into spanking". I didn't want to play in the dungeon, so I asked him if he was comfortable playing in my room. Of course, he would be fine with that. I offered to let his sub come up and watch. She agreed to let me play with him if all I wanted was a spanking. I thought I had made that little fact perfectly clear. The fact that I wasn't wearing fishnet or sporting a leash or collar should have made that a dead giveaway. So we went up to our room, me telling the guy the whole way what I wanted and what I didn't want. When we got to our room, I showed him my toy bag. Now I'm justifiably proud of the toys I own. I deal only with first class toy makers. He tried not to act impressed with the vast assortment of implements that lay before him. But I could tell he approved. He pointed to a chair and instructed me to kneel on it. Oh, I was afraid of that. My knees were already hurting and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to stay in that position for long. He warmed me up by hand very nicely and then broke out the toys. He went hard with all of them and I was soon sore and red. He did offer a few token rubs between toys. But he made no conversation with me nor did he ask before using a toy on me. I guess since all the toys were my own, he must have figured I'd have no objections to having any of them used on me. Finally, I had to get off that chair. My knees were sore and making it difficult to enjoy the spanking; something I think was partly by design though I can't be sure. So he very graciously allowed me to lay over the bed for the rest of the spanking. When it was over, his sub took some pictures for me.

It was getting late and I was tired. P had been up since 4 am. But they weren't ready to turn in just yet. P had become a bit frightened with how hard I was being spanked, even though I made it clear that I was a hard player. She was obviously distressed and I must have apologized to her a dozen times. They all went back downstairs and I called it a night.

Part Two will follow tomorrow.

The Sweet Smell Of Spanking

Tonight, while packing for the big weekend event in St. Louis, it dawned on me that I have a LOT of stuff that smells good. No, this may have nothing to do with spanking, but it does involve another fetish of mine: scent. Long before I ever got into the spanking scene, I got hooked on things that made me smell good. This probably stemmed from the fact that I smoked like a chimney and needed all the help I could get when it came to making me smell like something more alluring than an ashtray. I bet if I think long and hard, I can remember some of the scents I used to love. I have been wearing perfume or cologne as long as I can remember. It probably started with something like Love's Baby Soft or Love's Fresh Lemon as a young teen. Then, when I got a little older, I loved the smell of Estee Lauder. There were few body sprays in those days, but Jean Nate` made a body splash that was to die for. It was very lemony and woke you up. Of course, most ladies used bath powder (loose powder that came in a decorative container and came with a big puff) back then. My mother kept a couple different ones on her dressing table. I used to love to watch her get ready to go out.

Anyway, fast forward to 2003, the year I got active in the spanking scene. Don't ask me how I knew, but I just sort of instinctively knew that smelling good would be a plus when going to parties. I thought the guys would appreciate a bottom who took the time to look and smell good. And I was right. For years, I spent as much time on selecting what scent I would wear as what panties I would wear. In 2008, I discovered the Bodycology line. I was on a trip to WalMart with Carol and we were looking for some nice body sprays or lotions for an upcoming party. Carol and I flipped over the Bodycology stuff. We went up and down the aisle sniffing everything. We loved it all and pronounced it the best stuff we'd ever used. The company that makes it touts it as "spa quality" and it certainly is that. From then on, no pre-party shopping trip was complete without a trip to WalMart to by some more stuff from Bodycology.

This is my current collection. It's dwindled a bit because I'm trying to use up what I have. I sold my older sister on this stuff, too and her collection is HUGE. I think she has everything. They don't make the body scrub any more, which is a shame. It's great for exfoliating. Now days, a spanking party or even just a play date always includes something that smells good. Even my deodorant and shaving cream have to smell good. Scent has become a full fledged fetish for me. Yes, I know I could go pricier, but I've never been one to believe that just because something is expensive it's somehow better. I understand that many of the higher priced products use essential oils (which are natural fragrances) but I'm not about that. I just need to smell good for a little bit. I don't need something that lasts all day. And I'm not looking for a "signature scent". You can tell I like variety. This is just the Bodycology stuff I have. I have a ton of other stuff.

Obviously, smelling good is important. It's more than just being courteous, though. For me, it's a fetish.

Beat Me In St. Louis

Next weekend, I will be going to St. Louis with friends. Normally, this time of year, a trip to the Gateway City would mean seeing my beloved St. Louis Cardinals on Opening Day. However, this trip is different. Next weekend, I'll be attending my very first Beat Me In St. Louis (obviously a play on "Meet Me In St. Louis", the old Judy Garland film). It's their 15th, but my first. I'm excited but also nervous. First of all, I won't know anyone there except the people I'm going with. Second of all, it's a hardcore BDSM event and I'm a simple spanko. I've been assured that other spankos will be there so that calms my fears a little. It's a hotel party and I have been attending those for years. Hopefully, I'll meet some fun people and get all the spanking I can tolerate for one weekend.

The theme is "Play Hard Leave A Legacy". I certainly intend to. I'm taking my laptop with me, so I will have updates throughout the weekend (just in case you're waiting with breathless anticipation). Wish me luck as this is my first junket away from my Chicago base.