Inked Yet Again

If you've been following my blog for the last couple of years, then you know that I started getting really into tattoos a few years ago when I got my first one. I blogged about that first experience and the one that followed. So yesterday was my birthday so I got another one as a present to myself. This entry is going to be about my third tattoo experience and also some advice and how-tos based on my own experiences. I'm in no way an expert. There are large numbers of people who are vastly more experienced than I am when it comes to ink. But I've been inked a number of times now and each was done by a different artist so I think I have enough experience under my belt (literally lol) to give a bit of guidance to someone who might be reading this and who is on the fence about getting some ink.

First off, almost as soon as I got my second tattoo in October (the dragonfly on my left butt cheek) my third one was already being planned. I don't want to look like Lydia the Tattooed Lady here, but I think more than one is a very good look, especially if the tattoos are pretty, well done and have nice colors. The design I walked in with was quickly shot down by the artist who was going to be doing it. I don't know if he didn't want to do something that involved because he didn't want to spend a lot of time on a complicated tattoo if he had another appointment coming in or he just thought it wouldn't work with what I already had. But he understood that there were two elements to the tattoo that I wanted no matter what design he came up with: a clef note and cherry blossoms. I already have musical notes on my right butt cheek so I thought this would look nice with the new one. The lady who brought me was annoyed because Zach (the guy who was going to be doing my tattoo) wasn't there yet. He was there, I assured her. He was outside having a cigarette. Believe me, as a former smoker, I know the importance of getting a smoke in before work. I didn't want to have his hands shaking while he was doing my tattoo because he was having a "nic fit". I don't think she fully understands the tattoo business or tattoo artists in general. My appointment was for 11 o'clock, but that didn't mean I was going to be in the chair at 11 o'clock. It took awhile for Zach to come up with a design. Then the helper had to set his station up. He had to decide what kind of needles to use, what colors we were going to go for and also make sure that everything he was going to need was at hand. I didn't mind the wait, as it helped me get into the zone. I don't know how a vanilla person prepares for the pain of a tattoo, but someone like me, who's a spanko and who enjoys pain, will go about it a bit differently. I kind of treat it like playing with someone I haven't played with before. Once he did the stencil he had me stand up straight in front of him and he put it on me. He had tucked the hem of my shirt into my bra to keep it out of the way. Then he had me look in the mirror to see if the placement was where I wanted it. It was and so then there was nothing left to do but get to it. But first, he wanted to go outside and have another cigarette while the stencil dried, which I didn't mind. He adjusted the chair for my height (Zach is a pretty small guy) and had me sit facing the back of the chair. Then he folded the waistband of my jeans down to keep that out of the way, too. "Remember to breathe" he instructed as I heard the machine hum into action. Nothing had prepared me for the pain I would experience. It felt like someone had lit a match and was dragging it across my skin. It was more pain than I had ever experienced before getting inked. He knew I had other ink. He had asked to see my other pieces and in fact, had recognized the dragonfly tattoo as Jeremy's work. When Jeremy had come in, he had remembered me as well. I guess when you put a tattoo on a woman's ass you don't forget that. So he knew I wasn't a newbie when it came to tattoos. Kathy couldn't understand why she couldn't have her cellphone on while she was in the building (in fact, she made a phone call and the helper guy told her to go outside) and other rules that were in place. Phones and cameras are distractions and these guys don't need to be distracted while they're putting something permanent on someone.

Zach is just a tad heavy handed, but I did manage to get through the line work. He relayed a story about seeing a woman thrown down in a snowbank by her boyfriend while he was out on his deck the previous night. He told about how he had warned the guy that he was going to call the police (which he actually did do). All told, it took about two hours to do my tattoo.

The entire time, my feet are dangling and eventually, the right one did go to sleep. But I know that tattoo artists don't like interruptions, which is why someone else answers the phone and greets customers. So I didn't ask for a break. I did kick my shoe off and try to wiggle my foot back and forth without making any sudden moves that might make Zach mess up my tattoo. He assured me we were "pretty close" to being done. So I was encouraged to hang in there. Tattoos really aren't for people with low pain tolerances or who can't sit or lie in one position for an extended period of time. I'm always a bit disappointed when a tattoo is finished. It means I now have to wait for the next one to get those awesome sensations again. He had me stand up and then sent me to the mirror to see the finished product. Kathy snapped a couple of pictures before he covered it with Saran Wrap.

 

I had bled quite a bit during this tattoo, probably because of the placement. But I was breathlessly happy with my tattoo and was kind of glad we hadn't gone with the original design.

Now, a bit of unsolicited advice about tattoos:


There are plenty of good reasons to get tattoos (self expression, relaying a sentiment, covering a scar, etc.) but there are probably even more bad reasons (and some really bad ones) for getting one.

Never get a tattoo because your girlfriend/boyfriend/homey wants you to. Tattoos made with ink are permanent and will outlast any relationship you're in. If you just have to have that special someone's name tattooed on your hand, go to the mall and get a temporary one and then take some pictures to commemorate the occasion.

Never get a tattoo because your mom/dad/boss doesn't want you to get one. That middle finger you got tattooed on your forearm may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but unless you get it removed, it will be a permanent reminder of your teenage act of rebellion and will probably impact your life negatively.


Never get a tattoo because you think it   

Birthday Blues

It's late December, so that means that my birthday is rolling around again soon. Soon as in a matter of days. I have been having mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I have some fun things planned and it ought to be a fun day. On the other hand, I've been think about Carol, the woman who came into the world five minutes behind me. Even though she's passed on, it's still her birthday, too. When we were kids, birthdays were always special occasions. My mother went to all kinds of fuss to make sure the birthday person (or people in my and Carol's case) had the best day possible. You could have anything you wanted for dinner, watch anything you wanted on TV and of course, have any kind of cake you wanted. Carol and I almost always chose pork roast for supper, since eating pork on New Year's Eve was supposed to guarantee prosperity in the coming year. When my grandmother still lived in Peoria, she would sometimes make beef rouladon, a German specialty and German chocolate cake. She was one of the best cooks I've ever known. Sometimes, we would ask her and Grandpa to take us out for dinner, which they always did, followed by a shopping trip for new clothes. Like many people whose birthday falls close to Christmas, we often felt ripped off. I can only really remember one birthday party. My mother worked full time, unlike a lot of mothers in that era, and she didn't have a lot of time for things like planning a kids' birthday party. Not to mention, money was always rather tight when we were kids. One tradition that we held to in our family was the birthday spanking. You couldn't have your presents until you'd taken your spanking. It was usually given by my father or grandfather. The spanking was done OTK but was never done hard. A spanking on ones' birthday was symbolic, unlike the ones we normally got as punishments. There was just some momentary embarrassment and then it was forgotten in the mad dash for gifts and cake. When we were younger, the cakes were homemade and usually from scratch. Cake mixes were available, but they weren't widely trusted by experienced bakers back then. Later, when we were older, the cake would be ordered from a bakery, like the chocolate one with the blue flowers in the above photo. It never seemed like a proper birthday without a cake. As we got older, the spanking tradition went by the wayside, although I did try to get a couple of boyfriends to spank me on my birthday.

Being in the  scene has opened up new possibilities for birthday spankings. Back in the days when Crimson Moon held parties in January, Carol and I could always count on some good-hearted top to remember to give us our birthday spankings . But once they stopped doing them in January, it became a case of us having to try to arrange something privately. This almost never worked out. I have all ready blogged about the 1985 birthday spanking I received from a guy I used to bowl with. That was my 25th birthday. When I turned 50 in 2010 I had a very memorable birthday spanking from an old spanko friend of mine.

He gave me a very nice strapping, took me out to dinner and then to see "True Grit" at the theater. It was my first birthday without Carol and I think he wanted to make it as nice for me as he could. It was one of the best birthdays I ever had, thanks to him. No one else did anything for me or even said "Happy Birthday" to me. At that time, I was still unemployed and had no computer.

Two years later, I had another memorable birthday spanking from a scene friend. This time, my old buddy Charles came down. He always came to Peoria on New Year's Eve as he had friends who threw a party every year. Because I live with my sister and her family, I couldn't host him. We had to get a hotel room. But it was still fun, despite the fact that I had been having abdominal pain since the previous day. I knew I should get checked out but I didn't want to be in the hospital on my birthday.

Forty-eight hours after this photo of me happily smiling was taken, I had my appendix out. I managed to put the pain out of my head and enjoy it.

So, what will this year bring? I have no idea. Mike has already told me that he won't be able to come down for my birthday. So I'm counting on other toppy types to deliver the spanking I've come to expect on my birthday.

Feelings About Feelings

You know, usually I'm pretty easy to get along with. I don't make a lot of demands. But something has been happening behind the scenes that is making me very frustrated and angry. This will be kind of a long, drawn out thing so bear with me.

I have one man that I list on my Fetlife account as my top. I have several play partners and a plethora of "sisters" but he's the only one I list as my top. For varying reasons, we're special to each other. I'm talking about Mike D. Mike is kind, generous and spanks hard. That's a perfect combination for me. I met him years ago at one of Valorie's OND parties. My sister was still alive back then and I think she may have met him as well. Anyway, about six months after Carol died, I was vending for my friend MrZia at the November OND party and I saw him again. This was in 2010. He bought a lovely blood wood paddle (one of only two that I had) from me and I let him give me a few smacks with it. It was pretty normal for that to happen and I thought nothing of it. I didn't see Mike again for three more years. In the spring of 2012, he contacted me, reminding me of how we met, and offering me a ride if I was going to be attending Valorie's party. I was, but I was going with my friend, Sherri. For some reason, he didn't attend. Then in November, he offered again. I couldn't go to the party so I declined. He asked if I had a free day for him to come down and play. I'm always looking for new people to play with. But to  say that Mike and I "clicked" that day is probably an understatement. I had searched for years looking for someone I could play with who was different from anyone else I have ever played with. Mike admitted that he had looked for a long time for the same thing. He told me he has been playing at the SINs Center, with little actual play. I got the impression that very few people gave him a chance. No, he's not an Adonis. Neither of us is young or beautiful. However, something just happens when we're together. But Mike is a busy guy. He's married, so his wife comes first. That's something I have to accept and I have no problem doing that. He also owns a business and that keeps him busy, especially at tax time. Everything is on his terms. I don't have a problem with that either. I enjoy his company and he's opening up a  different world for me.

We got together several times in 2013. He came down to see me about nine days after I had my appendix out. I had to cut our play short because of pain, but we still had fun. He treated me to a wonderful dinner and some nice spanking and a little pantie shopping. Then I saw him for a few hours that same month at the January Smack 'n' Snack (meetings arranged by Valorie at the LRA in Chicago). Again, I couldn't play very hard but we still had fun. I didn't see him again until May, when we travelled to Indianapolis for a house party. In June, about a month before the CCM summer party, he got the idea for me to come and spend some time with him at his condo. It was during this time that I became aware of the existence of another person in Mike's life. She was a sub he'd played with a few times and now she felt she owned him. She texted him no less than 75 times that weekend. "You're with that CherylKay!" she would text him. Her constant interruptions began to make me uncomfortable. Even while we ate at Carson's, a great barbecue place, she kept blowing up his phone with text messages. I told him he ought to turn his phone off, but he told me that she had threatened to kill herself before when he'd done that. I was horrified. How could he let this unstable woman into his life? I guess it just shows you the things that can happen when someone is desperate for someone to play with.

Things came to a head when we got back from CCM in July. Admittedly, I hadn't spent much time with Mike when I was there. But I explained beforehand that there were people I only saw at parties and I wanted to play with them. I think his feelings were hurt and he confided in this woman. She then sent me a taunting message, calling me a user, who only wants men who can spend money on me. I could tell that she really meant everything she said. She wasn't just trying to hurt me. I didn't respond to her because I didn't want to give her a stage to play her drama out on. Obviously, she was jealous of me but felt that some of the information that Mike had given her about our weekend in Chicago gave her some kind of leverage against me. I admit that I'm far from perfect and if there were problems between Mike and I that weekend, I took responsibility for them. I was a tad bit angry at Mike for telling someone I've never met personal things about our time together that weekend. About a month later, I tried to bury the hatchet with her. I actually sent her a friend request, which she rejected. That should have been my first indicator that things were going to come to a head. She sent me more messages after Mike threatened to drop her if  she didn't clean up her act. She accused me of driving a wedge between her and Mike. How on earth could I drive a wedge between them when I rarely got to see him? She sent me messages telling me how wonderful things would be with Mike if only I wasn't in the picture. Her attitude perplexed me. The more I tried to explain the real situation to her, the less sense she made. Everything was my fault.

Today, Mike got tired of her and cut her loose. Mike is a dominant man and was actually seeking a slave/sub. He knew I, as a bottom, could never be that for him. So I encouraged him to get another relationship going. He could only take so much and had a lot to lose in regards to his marriage and business if she decided to get really ugly. She wrote me today and, again, blamed me for the "break up." Now I'm back to reconsidering what part I actually did play in this. I won't lie. I do have feelings for Mike. It's not love. It's more like deep respect and friendship. If he were to call me and tell me he didn't want to see me anymore, I would probably be really sad for a while. But I wouldn't shatter over it. Now I have to wonder if having feelings is even a good thing in this scene. Does it even pay to get close to someone when there's bound to be someone in the shadows sending text messages threatening suicide? I looked for someone like Mike for ten years and it feels terribly unfair to have this going on. 

When  I first started in the spanking scene back in 2003, my sister and I had a few rules in place for ourselves in order to keep messy entanglements in check. First of all, we always played together so that the men we played with didn't see more of one of us than the other. Second, there was no sex involved. This is a rule I've since broken a number of times. We also didn't allow tops to get into our heads and mess with our emotions. Those were kept completely separate. At first, it was easy. But as I go along in the scene (especially in the years since Carol died) it gets harder and harder not to feel something for these guys. Carol kept me grounded and also fulfilled a lot of the emotional needs I had. But now that she's gone, someone else has to fill that emotional void. Mike does that for me. He's kind and funny and generous with both his time and money. Granted, a lot of women would say he isn't much to look at. But then again, I'm not either. Looks is very low on my list of things that are important in a play partner. Other things, like being a good listener and having a sense of humor, are much more important. If I had to define our relationship in a more scene oriented way, I would say that it borders on the Daddy/babygirl variety. He loves to spoil me and sometimes show me off. I feel safe when he's around. He feels like I gave him the chance no one else would. So many people are hung up on looks. All you have to do on Fetlife is look at what makes K&P on a daily basis. Almost all of the women are beautiful and the men are all handsome and commanding. Mike and I both feel that we don't fit that. But we found each other and that means the world to us. Mike is faithful to his wife and works hard at building his business. It's hard not to admire someone like that. We've always been honest about our feelings and honest about what we mean to each other. Maybe this episode with the needy slave will make both of us appreciate each other better. But I'm also on the look out for a possible romantic relationship and so I kind of have to put myself out there and risk getting hurt. It's a risk I', willing to take at this point, but that could change.

Inked Again

After getting my first tattoo in February, 2012, I had been chomping at the bit to get another one. But I had no idea where I wanted to go this time. It's not that I didn't like the first one or that I had a bad experience there. It's just that I wanted to see what else was out there. Well, thank goodness that I work in retail and have to work with the public. Over the course of a five-day work week, I had three customers whose ink I admired and they all got them at the same place-- Freedom Ink in Peoria.

Two of the customers actually gave me business cards from this establishment. I was impressed with the work that I saw on my customers and made plans to have a friend take me over there for a look. We weren't disappointed. The place was spotless and there were several comfortable couches for sitting and browsing the books filled with the work of the gentlemen who work there. Even though it was Monday and they were closed, they still allowed us to come in and have a look around. While they do accept walk ins, I would recommend making an appointment. They charge a $50 deposit (which is deducted from your tattoo at the time of your appointment) but that seems fair to me. I made an appointment and we left. When I got home, I had a look at their website and, again, was impressed. The owner, Tim Beck, has had his work featured in many tattoo magazines, both nationally and abroad. My appointment was with Jeremy as I assumed that Tim was booked for months and I didn't want to wait for my tattoo. I saw Jeremy's portfolio on the website and I liked what I saw of his work.

He's a young guy, but he's a great artist. I was really looking forward to working with him. Twice, I had to change my appointment due to my work schedule but the people there were awesome about it. When I arrived for my appointment, Jeremy was finishing his dinner. So we sat down to wait. Again, the place was immaculate. I was nervous at first but soon calmed down. I treated it like I was getting ready to play with someone I'd never played with before. I was disappointed that the design I'd shown him was not "doable" and that I would have to do something different. But I appreciated his honesty. After I described what I wanted, I settled in to wait to see what he would come up with. The design I wanted was a dragonfly and the one he drew up looked really amazing. I hate bugs, but I do love dragonflies, both in jewelry and in drawings. In real life, not so much because they look rather fearsome to me. He asked me about how big I wanted it and where I wanted to put it. He was neither shocked nor surprised when I told him. I was a little dismayed to learn that they had no private room for work of this kind, but he dragged a portable massage table out. OK, I've played in public before. Strangers have seen my ass. I wasn't going to stress over it. I'll just say it's a good thing I didn't want my hew haw tattooed. The first time he put the transfer on, I didn't like the location. It wasn't far down enough, So he did it over. The second time was dead on and so it was time to get down to business. He taped the bottom of my shirt out of the way and got me comfortable on the table. I was still a bit nervous about being out in the open like that. Believe me, no one is more aware than I am of how big I am than I am. But this was what I wanted and this was part of the price.

The line work hurt...a lot. Doing the outline requires that the line be continuous at times and that's what hurts. Anyone who's had a tattoo knows what I'm talking about. He asked me to lie as flat as possible and breathe as normally as I could. With my pain tolerance, that wouldn't be difficult.

OK, I wish my fat gut wasn't showing here. But there was nothing I could do about it. I love to document my experiences with photos. If you would have asked me fifteen years ago if I would be willing to do this, I would have said you were crazy. One thing being in the spanking scene has done is make me less inhibited and less hung up on my body. It's also forced me to accept myself as I am. I told one of the guys there that I was in the BDSM scene and that a lot of people would be seeing Jeremy's work. These people who do tattoo artistry depend on word-of-mouth for a lot of their advertising. From now on, whenever I drop my panties or get naked to play with someone they will see Jeremy's incredible talent.

I love the colors in this. And I love the definition. It really does look like it's flying up. He made sure to use plenty of green as it's my favorite color. I didn't want a creepy-looking bug on my ass and while it's whimsical, it's realistic enough to be cool. In every way, I'm pleased with this tattoo. I'm over 50 so I won't be wearing it for 50 more years. I'll probably live another 20 years or so and I can live with this tattoo. It's really beautiful and I can't wait for it to heal. Now it's time to think of the next one.

Chicago Crimson Moon Party Review-- Part I

Since August is now half over, it's time for me to get it in gear and let all my readers know about my experiences at the big CM summer spanking party. It was held at our usual hotel on July 25-27. There were a lot of people there, many I had never met before.

Because I had to work on Wednesday, it was a hectic day for me. I had to work until 5 o'clock so the plan was for my buddy, Sherri, to drive to Morton from Kansas City and then my top, Mike, would drive down from Chicago and pick us up. Then we were going to spend the night at his condo in the city. Sherri told me she would try to get to Morton between seven and eight o'clock and Mike had planned to get there between eight and nine. I had to walk home from work and was planning on stopping on the way home to get my nails done. The place I go to is fast and they do amazing work. But they're all Chinese and so I have a hard time understanding them. The man who usually does my nails is nice enough, but he doesn't talk much. He prefers to use hand gestures when he wants me to do something. This time, I opted for pink tips since it was a special occasion. While I was sitting with my hands under the drier, I heard "Hey, Cheryl!". I looked up and saw Sherri. How one earth did she find me? It turns out that, when we were coming back from Atlantic City, I had pointed to the building and told her that was where I got my nails done. I guess it dawned on me at that moment that the town I lived in really was small. When I was dry and I paid my bill, I asked Sherri how she wanted to fill up some time since she was early and she said she wanted to go get some food. All she'd had all day was "road food" and she really wanted a hot meal. There was a Monacle's pizza next door so we went in and got some pizza.

We discussed several issues we'd both been facing. She was fully aware of my problems at home and she asked me if anything had changed. It hadn't. In fact, my sister had told me a few days earlier that my brother-in-law (her husband) didn't want me going to Chicago. In fact, he pretty much didn't like it that I had a social life. He thinks I should just go to work and come home everyday like he does. Neither he or my sister has a friend outside of work. Their evening hours are spent working another job. Neither needs the money, they just don't give themselves permission to do anything fun. They both hate it that I get my nails done, wear jewelry and make up and like pretty clothes. I'm an unabashed "girly girl" and I love all the things that go along with being feminine-- perfume, shoes and nice clothes. Both of them have had dentures since they were in their 30's because they never bothered to take care of their teeth. My sister hates it that I pay attention to my health. I'm determined to keep my real teeth for the rest of my life. Anyway, my brother-in-law grew up a Jehova's Witness and even though he doesn't practice his religion anymore, he still believes that women should lead quiet and plain lives. I should mention that I pay a very generous rent to live in the spare room (surrounded by junk my sister refuses to throw away). I don't think that what I do is any of his business. I don't tell him how to spend his spare time. I was pretty sure when I came back from Chicago it was going to hit the fan.

When Sherri and I finished our pizza, we headed back to the house. I was a little bit worried because I knew my brother-in-law would be home and I didn't want there to be a scene. But when we got home, he was grilling something on his grill and didn't even acknowledge me when I walked right past him. Whatever. Sherri and I went to my room and she helped me get my packing finished. I was worried because it was getting close to time for Mike to get there. So I called him and learned he was just getting on the road. That meant it would be close to midnight before he would arrive. I love Mike to death, but he has never once picked me up at the time he tells me he will. So now, with another three hours to kill, Sherri and I joined my sister in watching the Cardinal game. She had come home from her evening job and the Cards were playing on the west coast so the start time was nine o'clock. Sometime during the game, they showed a commercial for Dairy Queen. The three of us looked at each other and the light bulbs went off. Off to Dairy Queen we went. The Cardinals had a handy lead by that time and so I was in good spirits, despite the delay in Mike arriving. By the time he did arrive, it was midnight and I had been up since six am. I was getting pretty tired. But he helped Sherri and I get our bags into this car. He didn't seem the worse for wear, considering all the driving he was going to have to do before this was all said and done. Now I should mention one more thing about Mike. He's never going to break any speed records. He does everything well, maybe not slowly, but he's definitely deliberate. Before we got on the interstate, he decided he needed gas, so we stopped at a local station. While his gas tank filled, he decided to clean the bugs off the windshield. Now, because I was tired and feeling giddy, I started to laugh at how he was cleaning the windshield. His response was typically toppy. He went to the back of the car and got a little hairbrush he had bought from my friend, MamaBlue, and brought it over to me. I was totally uncooperative because there were people around. He said "This car doesn't move until you turn over." Seeing  that we weren't going to go anywhere until I did it, I turned over and allowed him to give me a series of smacks with the hairbrush. I hoped no one was around to see it. It was pretty late and the place was deserted. But the attendant inside could see outside. We drove off without anyone saying anything. We were already so late that I would have done anything to get us moving. Actually, we made pretty good time due to the lack of traffic and the fact that it was a Wednesday night and not a Friday. When we pulled up to the parking garage of Mike's condo, Sherri and I decided to only bring the things we would need for the night: pajamas, tooth brushes, etc. I decided to take a bath and get all shaved the next day. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. In fact, when Mike took Sherri up to the observation deck, I fell asleep. We hit the sack pretty quickly as it had been a long day for each of us.

The next day, we discovered we'd slept late. It was almost eleven o'clock when we woke up. And we all got moving around a bit slowly. Mike wanted to take us out to eat and so we let him. He decided to take us to Le Grande Lux, a quite nice restaurant with a great view. It was a great place to people watch, if that's what you like to do. We got a pretty nice seat, despite the fact that it was the lunch rush. I had it narrowed down to two things when the perogies caught my eye. I ordered them because I hadn't had them in a long time. They were just about the best things I'd ever eaten. They braise them with short ribs and then top the whole thing with sour cream and green onions. It was heaven. I was excited about getting to the party because it had been nine months since the last one and there were people I hadn't seen since the last one.

Tomorrow, Day One of the party :)

Crimson Moon, Here I Come!

In less than one week, the big summer party held by Chicago Crimson Moon will be under way. Now that CM only does two parties a year, they mean a lot more. I have been trying to get packed, work full time and keep my mounting insecurities at bay this week, all the while battling the heat. I guess what I'm trying to say here is I need a party. It's been three months since Boardwalk Badness Weekend and my play has been sporadic at best. As the tension mounts, I desperately need some away time. About three weeks away, Mike (my wonderful top) whisked me away to Chicago for 24 hours of great fun. We hit Carson's Ribs (said by many to be the best ribs in all of Chicago) for some barbecue:

Words can't describe how silly I felt wearing that bib, but it saved my clothes. I'm an absolute pig when it comes to eating and most of my friends know it. I ate every bite of that half chicken and the au gratin potatoes. Plus, Mike and I split a taramizu. I practically had to be wheelbarrowed out the door. Before we went to get food, Mike gave me the cook's tour of his condo, which is in a high rise on Michigan Avenue. I'm petrified of heights and hate elevators, so it was an adventure. We did manage to get a photo, thanks to a very nice couple that were on the observation deck. I think we were interrupting something, but oh well.

As much as I love the city, and enjoyed looking around, I wanted to play. A spanking girl always wants to get spanked. I don't think he was prepared for how much I hate elevators. He teased me mercilessly, but it was all in good fun. When we got back from eating, it was time to play again. This time, we decided to shoot a couple of caning videos, which I uploaded on Fetlife as soon as I  got home (after first trimming them down).

Don't let the "ouchie face" fool you. I'm having the best time here. Caning is my favorite thing and Mike did a great job accommodating me. The only bad thing was that I had a stomach full of food here. We had a great time in the city. The next day, he took me to Navy Pier for a fun afternoon  before we had to hit the road. We took a water taxi to Navy Pier, something I'd never done before. I hadn't been on a boat in over 30 years; not since we used to spend vacations at my grandparents' place on Table Rock Lake back in the 70's.

The trip only took a few minutes, but the weather was absolutely perfect. There was a nice breeze on the lake that day. However, I deeply regretted forgetting my sunglasses and my sunscreen. You can see in this photo that ours wasn't the only taxi on the lake that day. There were all kinds of boats on the lake. I was awed by all the tall buildings and quaint cafes we saw. I think half the people took it for granted. As I stated in one of  my blog posts concerning the party in Atlantic City, I haven't travelled much and it shows. I was practically stretching my neck looking up at the skyscrapers. Mike got a kick out of my excitement. He told me that Navy Pier is his favorite place to "people watch". I've never been much of a people watcher myself. I'm much more curious about hearing what people have to say. I love listening to conversations and there was a lot of that going on as we ate. We hit a little cafe in the park called (I think) Rivan's. They serve crab cake sandwiches that are to die for. Anyway, it was soon time to get going and hit the road. Mike assured me to time until the Crimson Moon party would go fast. It hasn't. It has been dragging, all the while I work and pack, then unpack and re-pack. This is something that I've always done.

I have the usual summer assortment of cropped pants, peasant tops, dresses and sandals. In fact, I have a separate suitcase just for my shoes. I'm probably over packed, but that happens all the time. I would rather have too many things than not enough. You just never know what you might need at a spanking party. This will be Crimson Moon's 20th Anniversary party and so it's going to be a little special. I bought the two dresses because I felt the need to dress up a bit more. Mike likes to go to nice places to eat and I feel self-conscious in jeans when we're in a nice place. One of the dresses necessitated the need to purchase my first strapless bra in many, many years. I was a bit chagrined to discover that the bra cost more than the dress.

As I think back on my years of attending Crimson Moon parties, I have a ton of memories of the good times I've had. I still remember my first party like it was yesterday. However, I don't have any photos of that first party because I was absolutely against being photographed at a party. That changed with my third party though. It was July, 2003.

This is me and Ian, the London Tanner. He had just caned me and I asked him to sit for a photo with me. He was very obliging for the camera, I must say. I should never be photographed from the side. But Ian was so nice and I enjoyed his company so much. I really do miss him since he moved back to England and doesn't come to parties anymore. He was a party all by himself. The stories he told were worth the price of admission alone. That was my first time being caned by a real Englishman. It was amazing. I still remember it completely.

One of the traditions that has held from hotel to hotel is the communal breakfast. Because most hotels offer a free breakfast to guests, breakfast at CM parties is always an event. Of course, because of vanillas lurking around, we can't play or even talk about spanking. But it's always interesting to see everyone drag themselves down to the lobby. The main topic of conversation is usually how much (or how little) sleep everyone got the night before. Most of us show up looking like something the cat drug in and I'm no exception:

This photo was taken in January, 2004, back when CM still had a January party. I think that's scrambled eggs and maybe a chocolate muffin on my plate. I'm pretty sure I'm drinking cranberry juice here because I always do at parties. This was taken on Sunday morning right before we had to get on the road to go home. Nowadays, I take a lot more photos at parties, but back then, I was still a little bit hesitant to be photographed at a party. Of course, I kick myself now because I don't have much of a record of those early parties.

Another tradition at CM parties is that you can always count on someone stopping you in the hallway and wanting to get a photograph with you. Cigi had always worn her hair short but my pixie cut was a new one. I can't get over how heavy I looked here, but Cigi looks beautiful, as always. She had had her right breast removed only six months earlier and she carried her prosthetic in a beautiful box that resembled a hat box. Someone once asked her "Hey, what's in the box?" and she replied "My boob!". That's how she was. I really do miss attending parties with her. This was taken in July, 2007.

You also never know when a chance for public play will happen. I adore playing publicly because I'm a ham and I love to show off. The following photo was taken in October, 2007 in the public room of our hotel. Since it was the Halloween party, I'm dressed as the Black Dahlia (well, before the psycho got hold of her anyway). Everything I had on was black.

I'm getting the London Tanner prison strap from Richard Warmlion here. He was dressed as a gangster and it was my idea for him to carry his toys in a violin case (the way the old-timers used to carry their gats).

It's fun to look back at past parties as this one approaches. One thing is for sure: there will be a ton of photos.

Spanking Is Fun? Why Yes It Is!

At least once a week without fail I receive a message in my Fetlife inbox offering to help me with my "disciplinary needs". Most of the gentlemen doing the offering don't live close enough to me to make even meeting a reality and yet they insist that I should be accountable to them. People who see spanking in a purely punitive light have always annoyed and, at times, enraged me. I'm not slamming people who see spanking that way. Many people are in the scene simply to meet a dominant or Daddy to fill this very role. And if that's what someone seeks, who am I to look askance at them? However, when such behavior is directed at me, I feel I then have the right to protest. I'm usually polite to such people, unless he's a multiple offender. I tell them I'm sorry but I have no disciplinary needs that need met. With rare exceptions, I get a response, sometimes carefully worded, sometimes not. The responses generally fall into one of three categories:

1) "All women are bad little girls who need a man to spank them and put them back in their place (wherever that is)."
2) "You're in denial, sweetheart."
3) "All people who get spanked are submissive and also harbor a deep guilt over enjoying spanking. Spanking helps purge that guilt, along with other naughty feelings."


Responding to these messages is always a painstaking process for me. I don't want to step on any one's toes or come across as argumentative. All three attitudes have their adherents on both sides of the lap. But I have found that getting into philosophical discussions with any of the holders of these three prevailing attitudes is a total waste of time. The first one, where the man groups all women into the "bad little girl" category, is pretty easily identified as men who read too much spanking fiction or have seen one too many spanking videos where the "men are in charge" attitude is prevalent. The second one, the accusation of being in denial about needing to be disciplined, says a lot about the man who holds that attitude. Most of the uber-doms I know have this  attitude. They have a sense of entitlement and always have to be "right". The third one mostly comprises men who have read a lot of books on BDSM and the D/s dynamic. They tend to generalize about what spankees (whom they always refer to as "subs") might actually be after. Their attitude is "I've read all of this so I must be right. Never mind the fact that I've never actually played."

When I write the gentlemen back and tell them that, for me, spanking is fun, they almost always seem stunned. "Spanking is NOT supposed to be fun, young lady. You're supposed to be learning a lesson!" This ties in with other messages I've received concerning my habit of smiling while being spanked. Shockingly, I also get messages on occasion from submissives who ask "Can spanking really be fun? I asked my Sir and he says that's rubbish." What usually follows is several messages back and forth, with me trying to convince the poor girl that her Sir is wrong. But I sincerely doubt I've ever changed any one's mind.

I first encountered this punitive attitude towards spanking when I joined spanking Yahoo groups in my early days in the scene. There was no Fetlife back then. Many of the men spoke about "punishing bad little girls who go to spanking parties". It was a dichotomy--the men enjoyed the company of the women who attended and were glad they came, but still felt the need to "punish" them for this bit of naughtiness. As a relative newbie who was still dealing with her own feelings about spanking, I found all this talk about discipline and punishment confusing. It was on the Crimson Moon Yahoo group that I first heard the term "good girl spanking". Apparently, a good girl spanking is much more desirable than the nasty, painful bad girl spanking. I was a VERY hard player in those days and a hard spanking would have been a good girl spanking to me. When I would voice this, the men would come out of the woodwork to correct me on my wrongful thinking. "You're not really supposed to like that kind of stuff" one long-time scene denizen wrote me. "Most of the ladies like bunny fur and other sensual toys." My favorite toys have always included canes and prison straps. Bunny fur just doesn't cut it.

Now even though I'm making a face indicating that I'm in some discomfort, this doesn't mean that this isn't fun for me or that I didn't enjoy it. The tawse my top is holding here happens to be from The London Tanner, one of my favorite implement makers and my favorite when it comes to leather. I was feeling this tawse for the first time. I posted this photo to my Fetlife profile to appease the people who don't like the ones of me smiling; the ones who enjoy tears and pleading. I'm not saying there isn't room for both attitudes in the spanking scene. I understand that a lot of tops and many doms are turned on by facial expressions that somehow indicate that the spanking is punishment or at the very least non-consensual. I can play act this particular facial expression very well. But what's on the outside is rarely what counts. Inside, I was in heaven. This strap is divine. It's worth every penny I paid for it.

This is how I'm much more likely to look after being spanked. Admittedly, the spanking here wasn't that hard. But it was hard enough that I think the average person would have had a hard time smiling. In fact, I've been told that, since spanking is my only real kink, I'm practically vanilla. I hate to break it to be people who feel this way, but vanilla people don't do this. I admit that I'm a bit of a masochist, but I really do enjoy being spanked. I enjoy the feelings of closeness with the person spanking me. I enjoy the little shows of affection that invariably happen during a scene. So whether other people like it or don't like it, this is what I love about spanking. You don't have to "get" it. Just respect the fact that I do things a bit differently than some (most probably). For me, spanking is a wonderful experience that gives me great joy. The men who top me and the women who sometimes share the spanking with me are people I count among my best and closest friends. I understand myself better than I ever could have had I chosen to stay in the closet about my kink.

Yes, spanking is fun! And it can be amazing with the right person. If you're a newbie, don't let anyone tell you categorically how it is. Spanking can mean anything you want it to mean. Yes, it can be for punishment if that's what you need. But don't let anyone tell you it HAS to be that way in order for you to be doing it right. Within SSC, there is no right or wrong way to do it. Just enjoy it in whatever way makes you happy and forget the ones who try to tell you you're doing it wrong.