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.

Inked

There used to be a time, up until very recently in fact, when the word "tattoo" conjured up a plethora of negative thoughts. Nice people equated "body art" (as tattoos are now usually referred to) with evil, menacing people: biker gangs, people in prison, anti-social losers, and sometimes people in the military. Some people are synonymous with their tattoos. Richard Speck, the drifting loser who murdered eight student nurses in Chicago in July, 1966, was tripped up because the lone survivor of his night of murder remembered his tattoo--"Born To Raise Hell". Nasty business. Nice people just didn't sport ink. Fast forward to the present. It seems everyone has at least one tattoo these days. I have seen tramp stamps on soccer moms. Of course, any professional athlete worth is paycheck has armfuls of them. I have seen discreet ink on doctors and lawyers as well. Quite a few people that I work with have tattoos. They are not uncommon in these times and have become an acceptable form of self-expression. When I turned 40 in 2000, I began to contemplate getting a tattoo for the first time. Before that, the notion had been unthinkable. What did I need a tattoo for? Once I got seriously into the spanking scene, I began to see more and more people with tattoos. The more I saw of them, the more I wanted one of my own. But I didn't know the first thing about how to go about finding a reputable tattoo artist. My 27-year-old nephew, Sean, solved that dilemma for me. He has a full sleeve on his right arm and an almost full sleeve on his left. He told me "Aunt Cheryl, if you're serious about getting a tattoo, then I'm taking you to my guy." Now his tattoos aren't something I would want. He has aliens, skulls and killer clowns on his arms. He also has "Juggalo" (a reference to the Insane Clown Posse) on his stomach. I knew I wanted something aesthetically pleasing, that conveyed my love of music and also something that I didn't see on anyone else. So I did a Google search of musical notes and found the first four notes of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. The notes looked awesome together. I knew my search was over. I had found what I wanted. All that remained was saving the money and finding a time when Chris, Sean's tattoo guy, would be available. On Wednesday, Sean informed me that he was going to be going on Sunday to get some more work done and offered to text Chris and ask him if he would consider doing mine the same day. Now tattoo artists are like any other professional. Their time is valuable. You can't assume that he will be free, much less willing. And he's by appointment only. You can't just walk in off the street and expect him to spend three hours on you. He needs to know in advance what he's up against. So Chris sent a text back telling Sean that he would be able to fit me in. It helped that I already knew what I wanted. I loaded the photo on a flash drive and Sunday afternoon, we headed over to the Big Top tattoo parlor for our tattoos. The place was very interesting. The man who owns it collects old circus posters and memorabilia. But I had a moment of panic because there were clowns everywhere and I have a clown phobia. I have hated them all of my life. When Chris took me downstairs to download the photo of the tattoo I wanted, we found that it wouldn't load on his computer. For whatever reason, it didn't download from my computer. Sean fixed that problem. His ex-girlfriend (with whom he's still on very good terms) lived nearby and he offered to go and download it on her computer. While he was gone, Chris got to work on some sketches he wanted to sh0w Sean. He was an excellent artist. As I watched him, I realized there was a lot more talent involved than I had at first thought. We made some small talk, but I saw how into his sketches he was so I decided not to bother him. When Sean returned, we got the picture downloaded and printed and I showed it to Chris. He asked me where I was planning on putting it. "On my ass," I told him. Well, right there was a problem. He explained that the image was flat, but my ass was round (don't I know it LOL). So he took out some paper and began to draw. He was mindful that this was my first tattoo and I didn't want to be there all day or spend a small fortune. Once he got the design he liked, he presented it to me for my approval. To be honest, it didn't look like much on paper. He must have seen my disappointment because he went on to say that it would look much better once he got it on my skin. Skin is a living medium; one that moves and changes with you. Well, there wasn't much left but to get down to it. He asked Sean to look the door in case someone decided to walk in off the street. I was mortified to learn that he didn't have a private room. He took every precaution to ensure that no one saw us. He motioned for me to take my jeans down. I've been in the spanking scene long enough to know this signal when I see it. The first thing he did was shave the area where the tattoo was going. He explained that this was necessary to keep from getting an infected hair, which might affect the way the tattoo healed and would also be monumentally painful. Then he sprayed something on it which helped the transfer stick. It had alcohol in it so it stung a little. I had to stand there with my pants down while it dried. Meanwhile, Sean is watching the whole thing. You might find it a bit yucky, but I actually felt comforted by his presence. When the transfer dried, there was nothing else to do but go for it. He had a massage table which he moved over to where his equipment was. Then he put a pillow on it and told me, which a grin, to "assume the position". Here I thought I was going to be comfortably lying down while I got my tattoo, but no, I had to bend over the table on my tip toes. I was extremely thankful that I had decided to wear a thong. If I hadn't, he would have seen everything in the position I was in. He dipped the needle in the ink and said "Last chance to chicken out." I bent over the table and said "Let's do it." Sean had warned me that it wouldn't tickle. Getting spanked with nasty, evil implements on a regular basis has come in handy more than once and this was one of those times. It did sting, I will admit. But something funny and amazing happened. I zoned out, the same as I would if I was getting a nice, rhythmic paddling. The endorphins flooded my body and I felt so peaceful and calm that I never once moved out of position. He did ask about the healing wounds from the previous week's funishment session. I told him what kind of scene I was in and he was cool with it. A kink friendly tattoo artist might not be such a novelty though. He told me when we were almost done. I really didn't want it to be over. But it soon was. He had me stand up and he put some ointment on it.He told me I could look at it in the mirror if I wanted to. It reminded me of all the times I had looked at my freshly spanked bottom. Then he covered it in a paper towel and some tape. He instructed me on how to take care of it while it healed. All in all, I was thrilled with the whole experience and with the result:

I wanted to make sure that the tattoo was out of the safe spanking zone. I think it may serve as a guide to the safe places to spank; keep it below the tattoo. So now I have my own identifying mark. Everyone who sees my bottom from now on will know it's mine from the tattoo. But I have no regrets. This is something to cross off the Bucket List (if I had one).

Also, on a personal note, I just passed my third blogoversary. It's hard to believe that I've been telling you folks my experiences and dreams for this long. Hopefully, I will be able to continue for many years to come.

The Fetish List

Those of us who congregate on Fetlife (that wonderfully kinky social networking site) all know at least one person with a ridiculously long fetish list. You know the kind I mean; the kind that gives you a writer's cramp scrolling through it. Many of the so-called "fetishes" listed in these "War And Peace"-sized lists have nothing whatsoever to do with kink. I'm talking about things like bacon (and believe me, I have a lot of friends who list bacon as a fetish so I'm in no way saying there's anything wrong with it), zombies chasing them, and other things that don't tell you anything about what they're into, but do say a lot about their attitude towards life in general.

I have a few non-kink fetishes listed, too. I list "The Young Ones" as a fetish, although it's really not. I loved the show back in the 80's and feel nostalgic for the characters (Mike, Ric, Neil and Vyvyan) but it's not a true fetish. I also list 60's and 70's music as a fetish. I love it, yes, but if you look at the normally accepted definition of a fetish, if it were a true fetish, I would have a real problem. I list a lot of things I enjoy but they aren't real fetishes. But most of my fetishes that I list do turn me on in some way.

I list "having my spanked bottom photographed" as a fetish. This was one I created because I didn't see it listed anywhere. I love to have my bottom photographed, whether spanked or not.

There was a time though, when just the thought of having my bare bottom photographed (much less looked at) would have mortified me. I was conditioned to hate it because it was big. Then I got into the spanking scene and discovered that big butts were desired and sought after. Huh, who knew? So for me, posting photos of my bottom on my profile, knowing others will see them, is a fetish because I like that thought a lot.

Another fetish I created is "getting cool comments on my photos". I love to get comments on my photos, especially from people I've played with. Let's face it, we're all a bit on the conceited side to think that anyone is even remotely interested in looking at our photos. But of course, the short answer is that people ARE interested. If they weren't, there would be no photo option and no need for the comment button. Seeing "This pic is awesome!" under one of your photos is an instant ego boost. It makes us feel desirable, at least to someone out there in the ether. However, I don't post photos for shock value. I know a lot of people do and then they take exception when someone makes a comment they don't like. Also, by posting intimate photos of yourself on a public forum, you risk the unwanted sexual comment. There's nothing worse to me than posting an innocent photo of me getting spanked and having some horny idiot make a comment like "I'd f***k that!" If a person posts photos of their genitals, then they should expect comments like that. But spanking photos should, in my opinion, provoke comments that are spanking related.

I also created a fetish called "big tall guys with big hard hands". This is truly a fetish for me. Since I'm a big girl, I love to play with guys who are bigger than I am. That's not to say that I haven't had satisfying spanking scenes with men who are smaller than I am. That happens a lot. But my ideal spanker is over 6'4". I used to get together with a guy who was 6'6" and I loved playing with him. I loved the thought that I fit over his knee comfortably. Another guy I get together with at parties and privately is 6'8". I think he might be even taller than that because he has to duck in the doorways of our party hotel. When I find a tall, well built guy in the scene, believe me, I'm all over it.
I also list public play at parties as a fetish. Again, this is the exhibitionist in me coming out. I've always been a bit of a show off, even in my vanilla life. Playing in public gives me a charge like nothing else. I love private play, too, but nothing is as much fun and speaks to who I am more than getting spanked with people watching. At Crimson Moon parties (and most other spanking parties) the hotel usually provides a banquet room or conference room for people to use. Most groups use these rooms for eating, socializing and, most importantly, playing.
This photo was taken at the October, 2007 Crimson Moon party. I'm being strapped with a London Tanner strap (though the name of the strap escapes me). The party room was full of people and I recall that most of them enjoyed seeing me strapped over my black lace panties.



Which brings me to another fetish--pretty panties. Before I got active in the spanking scene, panties served a practical purpose. I wore them because something had to go between my flesh and my outer clothing. I usually wore the packaged kind offered by Hane's Her Way or Fruit of the Loom. I never shelled out money for expensive panties. After all, who was going to see them besides me? When I got active in the spanking party scene, I knew instinctively that pretty panties were a must. No one had to tell me.I like to go with colors that are outside what you normally see (white, pink, black and red). Lace can be tricky because it's delicate and can tear easily. All it takes at a party is one overeager top to yank those expensive panties down and they become an expensive dust cloth. I've blogged about panties before and the importance of "wrapping the package". But some guys just aren't into panties. They might say "yeah those are nice but they're coming down now." Some guys love panties. They love to look at them, touch them and spank over them. A well chosen pair of panties can sometimes make or break a scene, and I'm speaking from experience here.

A fairly new fetish for me is having my temperature taken rectally. I understand that this activity isn't everyones' cup of kinky tea. I started noticing that it was turning up in spanking videos and not just by one company either, but by many well-known spanking video producers. I became very curious about this activity, but finding someone willing to do it proved challenging. Eventually, though, a top was found who was willing and I finally had my curiosity sated.I suppose this could be considered "branching out" because it isn't really spanking, although it IS spanking related, like figging or plugs. A lot can happen with your pants down and sometimes spanking is the least of it.

Cane marks is another fetish, for me, is very real. I love the feeling of those "tram lines" after a good, hard caning. Many times I've been disappointed because there were no marks and this was often after a caning most would consider severe. The truth is, I just don't mark like I used to. It takes a lot to put marks on me these days.

These marks were the result of not playing for five months and then playing very hard to make up for it. Some of the welts are bruised but that's mostly because the strokes were to the thighs, very sensitive territory on me. I love the look of a few well-placed cane welts. Those vicious, bloody caning pictures aren't for me. There's no way I would endure that.

Basically, everything on my fetish list is important to me in some ways. And almost all of them are scene-related. What's on your fetish list? Is it time to add to it or pare it down a bit? Whichever answer is relevant to you, the most important thing to remember is to have fun with it, but don't get carried away. Or you just might end up with a fetish like "if the zombies chase us, I'm tripping you."