Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part VI

We all slept way too late on Saturday morning. I awoke to the cold realization that this was the last day of the party. It would soon  be over. There was an event scheduled that morning and we almost slept too late to attend. Lisa and I got dressed and did our hair and make up, all the while trying to convince Sherri to come with us. I don't think she understood how the event worked. It was called the Uniformed Top Event (when I first saw this as a thread on the BBW group, I thought it said Uninformed Top Event) and the way it worked was simple. All of the tops were required to be male (no female tops at this event...they already had an event for female tops) and attired in some kind of uniform or costume. It was like a Sadie Hawkins dance--- the girls did the asking and the men weren't allowed to say "no", no matter how unappealing the woman was. OK, going up and grabbing a guy doesn't really count as "asking". The thing was a total meat market and you didn't hear one person complaining. Sherri refused to go because she was afraid of being ignored. Lisa and I both tried to explain to her that the woman does the asking and the man couldn't say "no", but she refused to believe that's how it would go. So Lisa and I went off without her. I'm a bit ashamed of this, but I had looked forward to this event all weekend and I had no intention of missing it. When we got to the ballroom (where the event was being held) we were delighted to see that we were among the first to arrive. We picked chairs strategically placed near the stage and waited for the men to arrive. There was excited chattering among us female bottoms as the men were brought to the entrance and lined up. There were all kinds of uniforms and costumes--- firemen, cops, military, cowboys, businessmen, judges, doctors, even Zorro put in an appearance. All of the men looked dapper and excited about the prospects of some great spanking fun ahead. I knew who I was going to pick first. His name was Josh and he was wearing a Yankee jersey. Even though I'm a die hard Cardinal fan, I knew realistically that if I didn't grab Josh and play with him at this event (where I had zero chance of getting blown off) I would probably not get to play with him. When they announced that it was time for us to make our selections, I went up to the stage and said "Come on, Josh". I took him by the wrist and he came down off the stage. There were little privacy booths that looked like voting booths that had been set up for private play, but they were all filled so Josh asked if just sitting on a chair would be OK. What was I going to say? No? I let him lead me to a chair where I lost no time in getting over his lap. I had admired a photo he had posted of his spanking hand in honor of "Palm Sunday" and I couldn't wait to feel it. He had a very firm spanking hand and his style was very nice. I had expected a limp wristed spanking from a guy who I felt wasn't that interested in spanking me. But I was pleasantly surprised with the spanking he gave me. It was short, but nice. When he was finished, I thanked him and he went back to the stage. The men were supposed to return to the stage when they were done in order to await their selection by the next bottom. I saw many there, Josh among them, who rarely, if ever, made it back to the stage before another woman grabbed them. It was Josh's first party and I wondered if he was a bit overwhelmed. I wanted to play with him for real, but as I said, I didn't think he was that interested in spanking an old woman like me. Anyway, I didn't see him around that much. This event was a good chance for bottoms who felt they had no chance to play with someone to at least get some play in with a guy who couldn't refuse them. I saw all the Pretty Young Things there and to be honest, I felt somewhat out of place at this event. Sherri had at least one thing right--- the men would probably much rather play with a PYT than with someone like me. I'm sure more than one of the men I selected felt that I cramped their style. One top that I found extremely attractive (and knew from CM parties of past years) tried to engage me in a bit of role play. He was dressed as what I presumed was a motorcycle cop, right down to leather gloves. Our bit involved a jaywalker with no regard for public safety. It was really fun and he spanked me with enthusiasm. I remember Carol telling me excitedly about playing with him at one of the last CM parties she attended. I also got to see Joe in his fireman's uniform. The insignia were removed, but you could tell this was a real uniform and not a costume. As he was making his way back to the stage, I took his hand and said "Oh no you don't, Joe!"  He spanked me with a fire hose and scolded me for pulling a false alarm (not realizing I had done just that when I was a kid). It was a lot of fun. Another one I played with was dressed like a cowboy. I have a major thing for cowboys and he obliged me to the hilt, tipping his Stetson and calling me "ma'am". He was fairly tall with a nice hard hand and a great lap. He was another one I'd wanted to play with but felt way too shy because he was so good-looking. Why would he play with an old woman when he had a roomful of PYT'S to play with? This was just me being insecure. No one actually said anything of the sort to me. But I could tell the guys who weren't into me. All in all, I got spanked nine times, all of them were nice. Yes, there were a few I didn't get to. One was a guy from Switzerland called Oak. He was extremely attractive and young (early to mid 20's I would guess). When I had first seen him, I had him pegged as a bottom because of how young he looked. I was surprised when I got home and checked his profile and found out he was 31. He was tall and blond and very handsome. And he was always surrounded by women. I had watched him spank a lady at a suite party the night before and had been impressed with what a good technique he had for someone so young. Being a realist, I was pretty sure I wasn't pretty enough or sophisticated enough for him. He was a foreigner, after all. I doubt he will ever come to Chicago so that opportunity has more than likely been lost for good unless we both attend another BBW.

After the event (during which no photos were allowed, which explains why I don't have any) Lisa and I went back to the room. The head of the group, Mike Tanner, had kept up an annoying running commentary, keeping public track of the number of spankings certain women had received. It was all group "favorites". I assure you no one was keeping track of how many spankings I was getting. Like everything that weekend, it became a contest and a way to showcase the women who were "favorites". It was the same with the "Greeter Bunnies". On Friday night, a group of women (the most attractive in the group) dressed as Playboy bunnies and were going around greeting and schmoozing with the guests. Not one of them greeted me. Of course, we were greeted and invited up to the pool by Richard Windsor that first day and by Mike Tanner (but probably only because Lisa was carrying a big pan of fudge with her). But no one else on the board went out of their way to make me feel that they were happy to see me or to treat me like I belonged. It was all very, very cliquish. If any board member says "There's no cliques in our group" they're either out-and-out lying or they are in serious denial. The board members all have their favorites, even in Crimson Moon. I'm a ten-year member, but I have yet to make the A-List.

Anyway, we told Sherri all about the event and she expressed some regret about not attending. She asked me if I wanted to go down to the beach and see the ocean for real and I said I did. She had already gone down once, during the Uniformed Top Event, but she knew I wanted to see the ocean. So together, we walked down to the water. It was a pretty short walk, as the hotel was almost right on the beach. The sand was wet and cold, but this was probably going to be my only chance to see the ocean so I put on my big girl panties, and off I went.

The water was indeed freezing, but I didn't care. It was the ocean, with all the power the ocean has. Yes, I've seen big rivers, like the Mississippi and the Delaware. And I've seen Lake Michigan. They are all impressive. But they aren't the ocean. I wanted to savor the moment. Despite how cold it was, there was a family (a man, his wife and their little girl) on the beach, too and he offered to take a photo of Sherri and I together. We posed together for him and he snapped photos like this was a family event.

I was thrilled to not only be seeing the ocean for the first time, but to be seeing it with one of my best friends. I picked up some shells and rocks to take home to my sister and then we had to get back inside before we both caught pneumonia. There were actually some surfers out that day, hoping to catch some big waves. I thanked God for allowing me to see part of His creation. It filled me with awe and wonder. I felt even more like a tourist because people were walking around ignoring it, or at least taking it for granted. To me, seeing the ocean was a very big deal and I don't apologize for the big deal I made of it.

We got back to the room and got changed and cleaned up for that evening's festivities. That night, the theme was "Hooray For Hollywood", a kind of homage to classic movies. Better yet, they were going to feed us. There was a red carpet that led to the ballroom. I was kind of interested in seeing what kind of costumes they had come up with. Some were amazing, some not. The food, which was really good, was served buffet style, while the disc jockey played well-known movie themes and the projector showed famous movie posters (with photos of the group "favorites" PhotoShopped over the stars' faces). A little later, there was a comedy skit involving life on Fetlife, during which there were more f-bombs than I could count. Again, the group "favorites" were involved. No one came to me and asked me if I would be interested in being in a comedy skit. I hadn't even known about it. It soured my mood, hearing all of that swearing and mockery of a social networking site that has done more in five years to help balloon the spanking party scene than all the years of Yahoo groups and e-lists combined. I felt that, in some small way, they were biting the hand that was feeding them. It really put me off this group a bit. It was all too glitzy and trite. I wanted to play, but all five of the men I asked in the ballroom turned me down. I don't mean to brag or toot my own horn, but at Crimson Moon, this is unheard of. I'd never, in ten years of attending parties, ever been shot down on five successive occasions. I wanted to go back to the room and cry, but I didn't want to go in the elevator alone. It was still too early for the suite parties. I asked one of the men whom I list as a play partner on my Fetlife profile and even he turned me down. Of course, a little later, when his plan to play with someone else fell through, he did come to me and ask me if I was still interested. If I hadn't wanted to play so badly, I might have said "You had your chance!" but I didn't. I went off to his room to play. He gave me a great session, despite the fact that he'd been drinking and sometimes rambled. It was my first time playing since the Uniformed Top Event that morning. At CM, I would have considered the day wasted if I went eight hours without playing. But out here, they do things differently. No one really plays until the suite parties open at midnight. When we got upstairs, I mingled a bit. Earlier that afternoon, there had been a "Meet the Brits" event in one of the suites and we went up. It was here that I got my second caning from Richard Windsor. He caned me a bit harder this time, but still not as hard as I like it. I guess he canes hard enough. He certainly enjoys having an audience, as do I.

He gave me some pretty nice cane marks, which didn't last so I was happy we got a photo of them before they faded. Later, at one of the suite parties, I got to play with JC, a top from Indiana who was attending his first party. My ribs were screaming grand opera for some reason, so he placed a pillow on his lap for me.

There are a couple of reasons I'm unhappy with this photo. First of all, it's blurry. It looks like someone took it with their phone, when it was in fact, taken with my Canon PowerShot, which takes great photos usually. Secondly, I look enormous. But to his credit, when I posted it on Fetlife, JC loved it. Unfortunately, because my ribs were so sore, I couldn't stay over his lap for very long. So I was soon over the bed, much more comfortable but loathe to give up my cherished OTK position.

He used his left hand to hold the small of my back, which I love and Latte held my hands. JC had purchased a London Tanner Nanny Paddle at the vendor's fair the day before and was wasting no time getting it broken in. He noted that I had some pretty extensive bruising, but it was on my thighs so he wasn't too concerned about having to avoid places. He gave me a very nice session, which soon had me sore and kicking.

It's a good thing for Josh that he's not standing any closer. I would have hated to take out his ball sac at his first party. I was hoping this would lead him to ask me to play, but he never did. Since he lives on the east coast, I sincerely doubt he'll make it to Crimson Moon anytime soon. So my chance to have a real session with him will probably never materialize. Oh well, as we say in baseball "You win some, you lose some, some get rained out." I finally did get a "real" session with Joe that night. I guess Sherri met him in the elevator and told him about the five guys who had turned me down. I didn't want or need anyone's sympathy, especially not Joe's. But he did tell me he wanted to play. I can't exactly remember how it came about, but I'm sure glad it did.

He used a nice assortment of toys on me. I was pretty sure this was going to be my last session of the party, so I told him to let me have it. Joe isn't what I would term a "bruiser". He can and will kick it up a notch if that's what you want, but I think he's happiest giving the bottom he's playing with a variety of sensations with some humor mixed in. I think he knows that I'm somewhat socially awkward when I'm out of my comfort zone and he told me more than once how proud he was of me coming all the way to Atlantic City. I think he also realized that I had been treated like the retarded cousin at a family reunion and I think he felt like he had to make it up to me somehow. I couldn't understand why I had been turned down so many times. It never happened at CM. I consider myself friendly and fun to play with. I've certainly never heard any complaints, at least not directly. Normally, if a guy turns down my invitation to play, I just consider it his loss and move on. But five in a row is a lot to move on from. I tried to figure out what had caused it. Was it my breath? Was I not dressed right? I know I don't dress fancy for these parties, but I do try to wrap the package as best I can. High heels and tight dresses just aren't me. Anyone would have seen right through that and seen it for what it was---an attempt to "fit in" with the cool kids. I tried not to let the rejections spoil my head space, but I think it did to some degree.

While I enjoyed most of my time in Atlantic City (I had one of the best pizzas I've ever eaten at a Mom and Pop joint near the hotel) I came away from the experience more convinced than ever that I just don't belong at those big, fancy parties. Some of the people at the "Hooray For Hollywood" dinner wore formal attire and here I was in jeans. Maybe that's another reason why I was turned down and why I got treated like the retarded cousin at a family reunion--- maybe people got the impression that I didn't know how these things are done. I always thought our scene celebrated the individual; the person who doesn't cave in to peer pressure to be something they're not. I wonder if I would have still been turned down had I been in a gown. Ugh...the thought of me in a gown is a visual I did not need. One of the men who turned me down was someone I'd known and adored in videos for more than 20 years. I had dreamed countless times of being over his knee. But when he rejected me, the realization hit me that I would probably never get another chance to play with him. I was told how shy this man is, but I saw him talking and laughing with plenty of other women. He didn't look shy to me. Also being rejected by a man who wrote me and asked me to list him as a play partner hurt really bad. Only when his other plans failed to pan out did he come and ask me if I still wanted to play. Another one who turned me down was a guy who messaged me repeatedly to get my assurance that we were going to play. I even purchased and wore a special item of apparel that I knew he liked for the occasion and he still turned me down. I was also turned down by the man I purchased my one-of-a-kind strap from. I guess I was good enough for him to take my money, but not good enough to play with. I saw photos all over Fetlife of this guy playing with other women so I knew he was playing. I understand that people have the right to say "no" and I should accept it gracefully. But don't spend two months telling me what you're going to do to my ass and then turn me down when it gets to zero hour. Man up, for God's sake. Tell the truth. I would much rather hear "I will be happy to meet you but playing is out of the question" than a long message describing the wonderful scene you have planned, but then when you see me in the flesh, you have other plans. I came 1500 miles and went basically flat busted broke on gas and the cost of hotels so I could play with people I would never get another chance to play with. And yes, I know that paying a party fee and showing up doesn't guarantee anything. No one owed me anything just for showing up. However, three of the five men who rejected me had also written me asking to play and telling me how much fun I would have with them. So I don't think that my expectations were too high.

Anyway, before this turns into a rant, I just want to say that I did have a nice time in Atlantic City. Do I want to come back? Only time will tell on that one.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part V

I said in one of my entries last week that my party fee was paid for my Joe (DrLectr). If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have been able to attend. The funds just weren't there. It was expensive enough between gas, food and lodging. Joe first discussed attending BBW with me back at the October Crimson Moon party. At first, I declined. It was too far away and there was no way I was flying. But Joe worked on me and also worked on Sherri, who said it wouldn't be that difficult to drive there. It was six months in the future, so I put off making a decision. But soon, I began to see all the fun people who would be attending and I said "I don't want to miss this!" So around Christmas time, I messaged Joe and let him know that I was going to go ahead and take him up on his generous offer. When I saw him, I thanked him profusely. In fact, I think he got a little embarrassed by it.

At any rate, that Friday night, at the midnight suite parties, I literally bumped into him. He lost no time in getting me over his knee (after first placing a pillow on his lap in deference to my broken ribs).

I have said more than once that I love it when a top smiles and shows he's capable of enjoying himself. I know better than anyone that I'm not cute or adorable. I'm also not young or thin. I've seen the kind of women that Joe attracts. I adore Joe and love playing with him. But I'm not his ideal and I know it. But here's the thing about Joe. He's not the kind of top who would play with a girl just because he feels sorry for her or because he thinks no one else will. Joe earned his reputation by being a nice guy. I know a few people who don't care for him, but few of them are bottoms. Joe spanks great, not particularly hard, but hard enough. Now that I've lost some weight, I feel a lot better about being over a normal-sized guy's knee while he's sitting on a chair. I always used to worry that I would crush someone if I did this with anyone but Big Jim. But Joe got me comfortably over his knee and the fun began. Oddly enough, he never took my jeans down, but opted to spank me over them. I'm not sure why, but I wasn't going to complain after he'd been so kind to me.

Joe has an alter-ego called Malibu Joe. I don't know who started this or where it came from, but in the middle of spanking me, Malibu Joe made an appearance.

The white panama hat (or is that a fedora?) is all it takes to change him into Malibu Joe. I guess sometimes it takes a little bit of booze works, too. But the smile is unmistakable. Joe obviously loves spanking women, no matter their age or weight. Of course, like most of us, I'm sure he has his preferences. He's never said "no" when I've asked him to play. Joe is a firefighter and I'm sure he's plenty strong enough to hold me if he had to. This spanking was relatively brief and I thought I knew why. Earlier in the afternoon, Joe's girlfriend, Ten, gave me the news that long-time Crimson Moon member Big Jim had died. The last time I saw Jim, back in October, we'd had a good talk. We both laughed and cried. We said some things that needed to be said. He spanked me and we cuddled a bit. In the middle of that, he said something that shocked me. "Let's go away and get married." I was so taken aback, I thought he was joking. But he was serious. He went on to say that I knew how he felt about me. He'd been in love with me since the first time he'd laid eyes on me back in March, 2003. But I turned him down. His mother, who was suffering from Alzheimer's, needed him. He had long voiced his dissatisfaction with certain aspects of his life. Now it was too late to do anything. When Ten gave me the news of his death, I met the news with uncontrollable tears. I sobbed almost as hard as I had when Carol had died in my arms. I think Ten must have spoken to him about my reaction. I was embarrassed by how much I cried. I think I may have underestimated what Jim meant to me. I had been worried when people were messaging me asking if I'd heard anything from him. His phone had been turned off. This number was the only one I'd ever had for him. I had no idea he had died. The news hit me like a punch. I couldn't have been more shocked if someone had told me they had seen Carol out walking around in Atlantic City. Joe didn't want Jim's death to overshadow the party for me. He wanted me to have fun and so he kept the mood light. I can't say with words how much I appreciated that.

A little later, one of my favorite tops, a man I list as a play partner on my Fetlife profile, found me and wanted to strap me since I was already warmed up. The problem was that there was nowhere to play as both beds were being used. So we had to wait our turn. This particular top has two straps that I really love--one is the London Tanner prison strap and the other is something called the Amish belt. Both of these are awesome straps. The prison strap has more sting while the Amish belt has more thud. He later told me what I'd taken during this session (80+ with the prison strap and over 120 with the Amish belt) and I was shocked. I must have been completely zoned out because I don't remember taking that much. I vaguely remember hearing people gasping. I found out later that we'd had quite a substantial audience. When he was done, he lotioned my sore bottom.

I was pretty close to toast by this time, but the top told me he had a surprise for me. He left the room and came back leading the man that I'd wanted to meet and play with for 20 years to the bed. I was going to play with the great Ralph Marvel. But my mind was so gone that it didn't really register until later. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I ended up over a spanking bench for the cane from him. I wish I could remember how many strokes I took. Apparently, we had an audience for that, too. As I recall, he caned me pretty soundly. I was just thrilled to get to play with him. I don't know how Larry (the top who had strapped me) arranged this meeting, but I was sure glad he did. I just wish I'd had the presence of mind to ask someone to get some pictures. After the strapping and caning, I was pretty much used up for the night. It had been a long day and I wanted nothing more, on that note, than to sink into a warm bed.

Tomorrow, I see the ocean for the first time :)

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part IV

Because the suite parties started so late, we were off playing until almost 4 am. I'm a 52-year-old woman who works full time and has a regular bedtime because I have to be able to function at work. It had been a long day and me, Sherri and Lisa fell into bed exhausted. I was really sore and it wasn't just my bottom. My ribs were really sore. I took a tramadol before hitting the sack and slept like a log. We woke up later that morning. I found out that Sherri had walked to a nearby market to buy some milk. We got dressed and, because there was no free breakfast offered by the hotel, we were forced to eat what we had in the room. There were cookies, fudge, grapes, muffins and Coke to wash it all down with. "Breakfast of champions" as we say in the Midwest.

As sometimes happens at parties, my mind was a blur and I'm not sure how we ended up back in Tom and Nancy's room for more play. Again, it was awesome and this time we had even more people in the room. Again, Tom started with his hand.

It was relatively warm that day so I felt OK wearing a short sleeved shirt and sandals. I stressed because my fat gut was showing in the photos, but there was nothing I could do about it. Again, Tom made sure I had a pillow under me to cushion my ribs (which were extremely sore that day). You can  sort of see where the Family Strap hit on my bottom. The mark was visible the rest of the weekend. I was pretty happy about being able to wear these jeans. I'd bought them at a thrift store hoping to diet into them, which I did.

We were joined by Kaity-lyn and her husband, Rodney. We were also joined by RodneySpanksHard FirmHandTn. Both men managed to get some playtime with me. There were plenty of bottoms in attendance and all of them were seen to by the kind gentlemen, I was again treated to some very interesting toys. One of them was called "The 50 Shades strap". It felt pretty much like any other strap.

But I guess some crafty marketing genius tied this in with the books. Whatever the case, Tom sure got a kick out of using this. He even put the little bag it came in on my back so people would know it was s "50 Shades" strap. There was a lot of spanking going on in that room. Everyone was getting in on the act. Tom was no sooner done with me, than RodneySpanksHard wanted his chance with me. I kind of regret that this was our only chance to play all weekend. But whenever I play with Rodney, i have to get the London Tanner prison strap and he let me have it good this time.

It doesn't matter what kind of condition my bottom is in, I always want the prison strap laid on well and Rodney can sure bring the pain. I first felt the prison strap in 2003 from the man who makes them. I was impressed that day and always love to feel it from whoever has it. This wouldn't be the only time I would feel it. I would love to have one, but they are extremely expensive and I just don't have the funds for it. Of course, if anyone wants to buy me one, I wouldn't turn it down. As I was being strapped here, Nancy was being spanked by someone else. The ones who weren't being spanked were kind enough to snap pictures. Photo wise, this was a great party. Everyone I asked was more than happy to take photos for me. And I returned the favor whenever anyone asked me to take a photo for them. When Rodney got done with me, I found myself across the knee of FirmHandTn. Like the other tops I'd played with, he let me put a pillow between my ribs and his knees.

I didn't notice it at the time, but it's a good thing for my sister, Sherri, that I don't kick my feet. She's directly behind me and was smiling the whole time. This is one of my favorite photos from that whole weekend. I sometimes get grief from people because I smile when I'm getting spanked. For some reason, it just rubs them the wrong way. If I'm being honest, i'll admit that I sometimes do it on purpose; I smile on purpose to annoy them. Some people take themselves and spanking way too seriously. They can't smile, laugh or admit that it's fun. For them, it always has to be about punishment or a "learning experience". While that may be OK in a relationship, at a party, people are there to have fun. And I was determined to have fun, despite ribs that were so sore I could hardly breathe. But I wasn't about to throw away six months of planning and sweating. So I grit my teeth and played on. When I was done with this one, Rodneyv(the other one) decided I needed to feel the "special strap" that he had, so over the bed I went for that.

I love straps. It doesn't matter what kind it is, I like it. Well, except for the Family Strap. And I have a feeling that I might have liked it under other circumstances. It got pretty frenzied in that room, with people swinging all kinds of implements. Luckily, there were no incidents. Usually, when lying on the bed like this, I would have the pillow under my hips, but here I had it under my chest to protect my sore ribs. I really didn't think they would be this much of an issue, but they were. But as I said, I was determined to enjoy myself. One of the highlights of this day was feeling a strap that had been made specially for me by Mike of the Correction Colllection. I had made a comment on one of his photos, a photo of some lovely paddles he had made. The workmanship looked amazing and I commented that, while they were lovely, there wasn't a green one. All of the colors were nice, but green is my favorite color. So he offered to make a green one and bring it to the party. And he was as good as his word. He uses buffalo hide to make his paddles and he gave me a sample of it the night before. But this was MY strap, made specially for me. There isn't another green one in existence.

It sure does cover a lot of surface area and it will take some breaking in to get it nice and supple, but I love it. It definitely has some bite to it. I think Mike (my top) will love it, too when he gets his hands on it. We'll soon see. Anyway, the fun was beginning to wind down and someone suggested one of my fvorite things to do: a line up. All of usnice red color and so we lined up, pants down for a group shot.

To me, these scenes are always delightful. Everyone seemed to have gotten all the spanking they wanted. This had been a really fun way to spend a couple of hours.

Tomorrow, I finally end up over the knee of my benefactor :)

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part III

Tom was in total spanko heaven. He was in a room, the only top in the room and he was surrounded by spankable women. The magnitude of this moment wasn't lost on me, believe me. To my way of thinking, that's what these weekend parties are for-- to live out our fantasies in a place that's both safe and accepting. I'm quite sure that Tom has done this  before. I have done it before, for sure. But a scene like this never loses its wonder and charm, no matter how many times you've done it before. Tom was extremely accommodating. Knowing that my ribs were an issue (and they were that entire weekend, much to my chagrin), he put me over his knee on the bed in the most comfortable position we could find. He was patient when I asked him to stop so I could change position. He instinctively knew that I liked to be spanked over panties (or perhaps he had read my very long fetish list) and he indulged me in that.

It was an awesome experience being spanked by someone who so obviously enjoyed what he did. He and Nancy are well-travelled and know the party circuit well. I, on the other hand, had never ventured out of Illinois to attend a party before now. I must have looked like a total rube to them, but they had the class and good grace not to mention it. I felt like someone attending a fancy dinner party for the first time and not knowing which fork to use. Part of the problem was that I had a preconceived notion about what I thought Atlantic City was. I envisioned it as being replete with high rollers and mobster types all trying to find an angle. But none of that was true; at least, I didn't see it. All of my illusions about the city were fractured that weekend. It was nothing like I pictured it. My mother was fond of that old Anita Bryant song "On the boardwalk in Atlantic City, we will walk in a dream..." I used to remember hearing her sing it while she ironed or did the dishes. And I guess that's what I did all weekend-- I walked in a dream. But the reality was that it was just a place like a lot of other places. I remember telling Sherri when we came into town that, aside from the casinos, it looked a lot like downtown Peoria. To an inexperienced traveller like me, who just doesn't know what to look for, Atlantic City wasn't the dreamland I always thought it would be from hearing my mother sing about it.

Tom spanked me very nicely, first with his hand and then with an assortment of interesting toys. I was surprised more than once by what a hard spanker he could be considering Nancy doesn't play that hard. He was obviously enjoying spanking me as much as I was enjoying being spanked by him.

He sure did make my bottom red. Even after ten years in the active party scene, I still redden easily, though I don't mark easily anymore. I love it that Tom has his eyes completely riveted on my bottom. He obviously loves what he does and there's no jealousy on Nancy's part (not that I saw anyway). She happily snapped pictures while her husband of 28 years thoroughly spanked my bottom. It was a great way to get the party kicked off. But it had to end sometime. I'm extremely happy that Nancy had the good sense to get a picture of the post-spanking hug.

I think we're always so busy trying to get good action shots that we forget about this intimate and necessary part of the spanking experience. After all the hard swats and quasi-scolding, the tenderness of the post-spanking hug is often quite poignant, as this photo illustrates. Tom went on to spank every lady in the room with gusto.

One of the things that baffles me a bit about these very large parties is the concept of the "suite party". I probably don't have to explain what this is, but for my readers who don't know, I'll explain. A suite party is a gathering that takes place in some one's private suite. They are kind enough to open their room for play. At Crimson Moon, a lot of people open their rooms for play. They simply throw the night latch and bar their door open, letting anyone who happens by know that it's OK to come in. This happens at all times of the day and night. I and my room mates have often left the door latched open from the time we got up until we decided to call it a night. At these bigger parties, they are scheduled events, taking place later in the evening (in this case, very late). I would imagine that at these larger parties, things have to be scheduled a bit more because things can quickly get out of hand otherwise. The suite parties started at 11 o'clock that Thursday night but they wouldn't start until midnight on Friday and Saturday. When 11 o'clock rolled around, Sherri and I headed up to the 52nd floor where the suite parties were being held. There was some confusion because we were told more than once that the parties were being held on the 49th floor. But once the confusion was straightened out, we went to the 52nd floor and saw that, indeed, there were parties going on. The group leaders had their own "security" people manning a table in the hallway. You couldn't get into any of the suites without a name tag signifying that you were part of our group and the security people were scrupulous about checking. Several times that weekend our festivities were investigated by real hotel security. They were easily spotted because they wore dark clothing and had earpieces which they spoke into, like they were in the Secret Service or something. I think they came up more out of curiosity because I never heard that there were any complaints about us. Yes, we were a little loud, but no louder than the casino.

Another thing that surprised me was the amount of alcohol in the suites. There was a mind boggling array of booze in all of the party suites. At Crimson Moon, until the passing of our president, Vince Falletti in December, 2008, alcohol had been forbidden in the public rooms. Having booze in your private room was also frowned upon (but not against the rules). So I wasn't used to seeing that amount of alcohol. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not trying to sound judgmental here. As a recovered alcoholic, I have enough years of sobriety in that it won't be jeopardized by being around someone who had a glass of wine with dinner or someone who decided that a boilermaker makes a pretty good thirst quencher. But I saw people who had been hitting the sauce pretty hard doing some pretty intense play. I have made it my policy not to play with someone who's obviously impaired from drinking too much. Again, if someone had some wine with dinner or a couple of whiskey sours, and they are still in command of themselves, I would probably still play with them. But someone who obviously is intoxicated won't touch me. In this case, I would rather someone ended up with hurt feelings than end up in the ER. I've had enough bad luck this year without tempting fate.

When we got to the suite party in Mike Tanner's room (I assumed it was his anyway) he was giving out licks with something called the Family Strap. I have no idea why it's called that or if Mike was the one who so christened it. But I saw Sherri and Lisa both take three with that thing and they are both hard players. So I assumed I would have no trouble taking the same number. Imagine my surprise when I could only take two. The first stroke wrapped a bit and hit uncomfortable territory so that may have thrown my head space off. Whatever the case, that was that. I'm really not into contests anyway. I was much more interested in being caned by Richard Windsor. I had watched him cane Sherri and took some pretty good pictures, despite the "no camera" policy. I had been intrigued by Richard ever since I first saw his blog some five years ago. Being caned by an authentic Englishman isn't something that happens to me every day and I was determined to savor it. I don't know if he still has it up, but he used to have a thing on his blog called "Bloggers I've Spanked". I so wanted to be added to the list. I lost no time in getting over the bed. What I really wanted was to be over his knee, but he didn't seem interested and my ribs were being problematic anyway so the bed was just  as good. Since it had been a while since I'd played, Richard gave me a nice warm up with his hand. I couldn't believe I was actually being spanked by THE Richard Windsor. I'd seen a few of his videos and I knew that a few jealous  types had tried to sully his reputation. But none of that mattered when I was under his hand.

He has a tremendous spanking hand. It's nice and heavy and he knows what part of the bottom to aim for. Tom and Nancy decided to watch from the best seat in the house. After the warm up, it was time to break out the cane and he didn't disappoint me. Being a veteran party goer, Richard understands that most of us bottoms play pretty lightly that first night in order to conserve bottom for the rest of the weekend. Few things annoy me more than watching a top systematically destroy as many bottoms as he can before other tops can get to them. What purpose this serves, other than to make bottoms hesitant to play with him again, I have no clue. It's a sign that the top is both arrogant and inconsiderate. As I'd waited many years to be in this position, I wanted to remember every aspect of it. I was almost bursting with anticipation by the time the caning got underway.

It was exquisite. Richard is a top notch caner. The cane he used was a bit thicker than the medium width canes I prefer but it in no way compromised the scene. I can't remember how many strokes he gave me that night, but I think it was a dozen. When it was over, he thanked me and told me I had taken it very well. Then he hugged me and told me we would play again, harder next time. That gave me (and my bottom) something to look forward to.

Tomorrow, another first :)

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part II

When we got to the hotel, I was totally overwhelmed. I must have looked like a total tourist craning my neck to look at the tall buildings. Even as we pulled up to the door, I had doubts that we were at the right hotel. The bell boys, in their bright red uniforms, looked like something out of a movie. Our luggage was tagged and taken to a little room to await our room being ready. Our roommate, Lisa, hadn't arrived yet. I was looking for a familiar face but didn't see anyone from our party. Sherri went to park her car and asked me to stay in the lobby. I was still looking around, looking every inch the first timer. Finally, Sherri returned. There was nothing to do but try to find someone from our party. I still thought there was a chance we were in the wrong hotel. But then, I spotted someone I recognized. The black hat could only belong to one person: Richard Windsor. And it was him. I pointed him out to Sherri, who seemed equally relieved at seeing someone from our party. We went over to him and introduced ourselves. He looked just like his pictures. Except I thought he'd be taller. He asked about our trip and graciously invited us to go with him to the pool to attend a little meet and greet he was hosting. When we got to the floor where the pool was, we had to sign a paper to get in. This didn't seem unreasonable as we were not yet registered guests. Since the room was in Lisa's name, we had to wait for her to arrive. When we got to the pool, I couldn't believe how warm it was in there. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and had no chance to change my shirt since the luggage was stored away. There were a lot of people I recognized and a few I was meeting for the first time. During a break outside to cool off, I got my first glimpse of the ocean. I was awed by it and I couldn't wait to snap some pictures.

Because of the damage caused by Hurricane (or Super Storm if you prefer) Sandy, there was a lot of construction going on. Several of the construction workers proved to be just as lovely scenery as the ocean. Sherri stayed in contact via text with Lisa, who like us, was driving in. We got a bit bored (not to mention warm) so we headed back to the lobby. We saw Charles there, a switch who I've known for ten years. Right after that, Lisa showed up. We went up to the desk to get registered. Just as we suspected, our room wasn't ready yet. Charles invited us to come up to his room and wait, as the man at the desk told Lisa he would text her when it was ready. Somehow, while visiting in Charles' room, Charles and I ended up spanking Lisa with our sandals. Going up to Charles' room I had my first confrontation with the elevator. Charles' room was on the 42nd floor of the hotel. The elevators felt really fast to me. It felt like being shot from a cannon. Somehow, the elevators went from the 2nd floor to the 33rd. As fast as the elevators were, I came to the conclusion that they weren't going to be that much of a problem. That was a pleasant surprise. We had been told that our room would be ready by four o'clock so we felt we had some time to waste. When we got to Charles' room, we couldn't believe the size of the bathroom. Lisa put it well when she said "The bathroom is bigger than my first apartment!" There was actually a vanity where you could sit and put on make up or style your hair properly. By the time we got done messing around in Charles' room, it was five o'clock. Lisa got a bit frustrated and called the desk to see if our room was ready. She was told it was. So much for the text telling us. Lisa and Sherri went to get the room keys and pick up our luggage. Sherri said she would call Charles' room and let me know what room we were in. It turned out to be one floor above Charles'. He very nicely went in the elevator with me. I don't think I will ever be able to go in one alone. It's just too scary to think about. When I got to our room, Sherri told me that two bell boys had brought the luggage (which included my toy bag) up and they had expected to be tipped and tipped well. This was my first indication that things in Atlantic City aren't like things back home. Everything is expensive and nothing is free. I understand that a person has to make a living. But the trip was already proving to be more expensive than I thought it would be. We began the task of getting our clothes put away. I called dibs on the bed by the window so Sherri and I would be sharing that one. It was time to get our party clothes on. I knew I hadn't packed enough clothes, especially pants. I had not known what to pack because I was unsure of the weather. I guess it didn't really matter what I wore. It was going to be jeans and a top. Lisa and I needed time to put on make up and do something with our hair. Pretty soon, it was time to go downstairs to the Pro Bar and get registered. As soon as we got downstairs, I heard someone call my name. It was Nancy, someone I had wanted to meet for a long time. She's a 64-year-old grandmother, but I never believed it. She was way too gorgeous and sexy to be a grandma. She introduced us to her husband, Tom who I had also noticed was on Fetlife. When I got in line to get registered, I realized that they were asking for ID. I had left my purse up in the room, opting to carry my camera in my jeans pocket. One of the other party goers was kind enough to snap a group shot of us:

I loved Tom's shirt. It has baseball cards on it. I look like I'm crushing Nancy, poor thing. Those red drinks are actually spanko drinks that the waitress had made for us. She at first asked if we were the "smacko" group and she was quickly corrected. Once we got registered, Tom graciously ordered some appetizers for us. I was famished, to be honest. The first big surprise of the party came when Nancy introduced me to one of my spanking video idols, Ralph Marvel.

I was thrilled again when he consented to stand for a photo with me. I had been watching him in Shadow Lane videos for almost 20 years and I was so thrilled to meet him. I wish I had looked better in the photo, but I look like a starstruck groupie. I was just so thrilled to meet this guy. The next night, he would give me a second thrill by giving a very nice public caning. While meeting all of these people was awesome, I was itching to play. I had come a long way to party. The party hadn't officially begun yet but enough people had arrived that there were enough chances to play. So Tom settled the tab and we headed off to his and Nancy's room to play. Nancy isn't a hard player, but she gets the most out of her sessions. She's adorable, hot and sexy all rolled into one. I hope that, when I'm her age I'm even still playing much less looking as good as she does. Tom lost no time getting each of us over his knee and giving us our first party spankings. Well, Lisa got hers in Charles' room. He spanked me a little, but it wasn't what I would call a real session.

Tom said he was absolutely thrilled to meet the "famous" Cheryl Kay and to spank my equally famous bottom. I pooh poohed this notion. I am NOT famous. Granted, I'm all over Fetlife but I'm far from famous. He spanked me with his hand and a nice assortment of toys. It was so special for me to have my scene sisters with me in Atlantic City. I just can't say with words what it meant to me.

Tomorrow, I meet the "famous" cane of the famous Richard Windsor.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend Party Review-- Part I

My buddy, badsherri, and I were eager to get on the road Wednesday morning. However, there was s0mething I had to do first. I had to stop by work and take my Health Risk Assessment. This is a charming little piece of blackmail whereby the company forces its employees to submit to height, weight and measurement checks and also to give a blood sample. I had this done at 6:15 in the morning because we wanted to be on the road as early as possible. Aside from taking my wrist, waist and hip measurements, the nurse asked me personal questions about my lifestyle. Then I was taken next door to give my blood sample. I had just had blood work done at my doctor's office less than a month earlier, but the company insisted that I have it done again so their lab could see my numbers for themselves. Anyone who failed to participate would be forced to pay the full price for their insurance premiums. H0wever, failing to get an acceptable score would disqualify an employee from getting the discounts, so it's a lose-lose situation for someone like me. Despite all the healthy changes I've made (quitting smoking, not drinking and losing 50 pounds) I know there's no way I will pass it because they make this test almost impossible to pass.

Anyway, when I was done with that, I went to check the schedule to see what day I would have to return to work. But the schedule wasn't up yet. This isn't unusual and under normal circumstances, wouldn't even be that much of a problem. However, I was leaving town and my boss would have no way to contact me. So I asked my Human Resources lady to get in touch with one of the managers. She wasn't doing anything else, but she acted put out by my request. I finally did manage to speak with one of my assistant managers and she assured me she would let the scheduler know not to put me on the schedule until Tuesday.

After this, Sherri and I hit the road. We had already packed the car before we went to my place of employment so that we could just hit the highway right after. We did stop in a small town about 20 miles away for breakfast. I had had to fast for that blood draw so I was famished. The little cafe where we stopped was pretty busy, even at that early hour (about 7:30). The clientele was mostly pig farmers and construction workers. There was a small television tuned in to one of those extremely annoying morning news shows. Since the Boston Marathon bombings had happened only two days previously, that was the main thrust of the broadcast. It was depressing. But the food was excellent--hot, filling and cheap. Once we had our stomachs filled, it was time to get on the road in earnest. In fact, except to gas up, we didn't stop at all. Before I knew it, we were in Ohio. Seeing the "Welcome To Ohio" sign made me think of my scene buddy (and fellow Cardinal fan), Tony Trystero. I wished that he was making the trip this year, but events conspired against him and he had to miss BBW this year.

The topography didn't change much until we passed through West Virginia into Pennsylvania. And we were actually only in West Virginia for about a half hour, just passing through Wheeling in that little part of the state that juts out. But it began to get pretty hilly and both Sherri and I noticed that our ears were popping. Pennsylvania has a lot of historical significance to it. There's Gettysburg, Harrisburg, Donora (the birthplace of Hall of Famer and Cardinal great, Stan Musial), and lots of others. If we hadn't felt the need to travel on, we might have stopped in some of these places. But we couldn't. I tried to take photos of the amazing scenery, but we were going too fast to get good pictures.

But this gives you some idea of what the terrain was like. As we travelled further through Pennsylvania, we began to see actual mountains. Not being great at geography, I wasn't sure which mountains they were, but I guessed maybe the Allegheny Mountains. Whichever ones they were, they made our ears pop a bit. Neither of us got car sick though. I know what you must be thinking: OK, Cheryl, you saw some mountains, big deal." Well, to me, it was a big deal. Being from the Midwest, the only mountains I'd ever seen were the Ozarks when we would go to visit my grandparents in Southwestern Missouri. So yes, seeing mountains was an incredibly big deal to me. Wait till you see the fuss I made over seeing the ocean. Pretty soon, though, it dawned on us that we had been subsisting on the snacks we'd purchased at the gas stations where we stopped to fill the tank and that we were both tired and hungry. We were on the Pennsylvania Turnpike by now and there was quite a selection of restaurants and hotels. We got off the highway just outside of Harrisburg (where the infamous Three Mile Island nuclear disaster had happened in 1979) and found a nice little restaurant. When we pulled in, there was a lady there with a big van cleaning her windshield. She was transporting some beautiful dogs to a show out west and Sherri and I both stopped long enough to admire them and make some conversation with the lady and her travelling companion. Travelling by car can be isolating and it was nice to have another person to talk to. We went inside the restaurant and, even though it was getting a bit late, were shocked to see that we were the only customers there. An Amish man came in while we were looking at menus, but he didn't order any food. We weren't in Illinois anymore, that's for sure. I've heard conflicting views on the Amish people-- that they are both prickly and clannish and also welcoming and friendly. This was my first time seeing one up close. We have Mennonites in Illinois and they are not friendly. At least, that's been my experience. Anyway, we settled in to wait for our food and it was then that I noticed the "Life Rules" sign that hung near the door.

This is the kind of thing one would expect to see posted on someone's Fetlife profile, not on a restaurant wall so I had to  get a picture of it. Actually, I found it kind of sappy, but interesting enough to photograph. I didn't want to go overboard with the pictures, but I wanted to have some kind of record of our travels. I know people who travel a lot get kind of non chalant about it, but I don't do that much travelling, so it was a big deal to me.

Sherri and I filled our stomachs, while making small talk with the waitress. Of course, the television was on and the waitress had it on one of the 24-hour news channels. Again, the Boston Marathon bombings were the main topic. In fact, they were the only topic. Nothing else was newsworthy. Once we finished eating, it was time to start looking for a hotel. The waitress said there was a hotel right across the street that was "reasonable" and so we headed there after settling up the bill. The hotel turned out to be more like what we call a motor lodge. We went inside and the proprietor welcomed us. His experienced eye made us as weary travellers (or maybe it was the Missouri license plates on Sherri's car) and he was eager to get us settled in for the night. However, a room with a single bed was $80 a night. We explained to him that we were on a budget and a tight one at that. Now this wasn't a chain hotel so the man was free to be a bit rude. "My expenses are the same as anyone else's" he told us when we balked at the price. We apologized, but said that $80 was too steep for us and we headed down the road to find something more to our liking. Tired, cranky and worn out, we found a Roadway Inn and stopped. A room with two double beds was $50. That was more like it. Plus, a very generous man who was standing in the lobby when we came in gave us a $10 off coupon, so we ended up paying only $40 plus tax for the room. We brought in only the things we needed and collapsed on the beds. We were literally too tired to think at this point, but knew that a good night's sleep would fix everything. And it did.

The next morning, we had the free breakfast and were soon on the road again. We knew we didn't have far to go before we were on the New Jersey Turnpike and, when we turned on to it, our excitement mounted.

Despite having to ask a road worker if we needed to stay on this all the way to Atlantic City, we were getting really excited. But I was also scared. We were far from home, two women travelling alone. I'd watched enough true crime documentaries and read enough books to know what can happen to women travelling alone. But I knew that Sherri was much more savvy and street smart than I was. Once we got on the Atlantic City Expressway, we were home free. It was only a matter of minutes and the hotel was in sight. I had doubts that this was actually our hotel, but those would be quelled soon enough by the appearance of someone we both recognized.

Tomorrow, I'll describe the first night of the party :)

Yes, I'm Fat

OK, maybe this is surfacing because there's a huge party coming up in a matter of days and my insecurities always seem to surface just in time for a party. Usually, I have my stuff together enough that I don't even think about it. But lately (like over the past three or four days) my weight has become THE focus of my pre-party planning. Half of the clothes I had planned to wear I have discarded because of how fat I look in them. It's funny but I never used to particularly care how I looked from the front. Who was going to be looking at the front of me? Then I began to re-think this attitude. I'm a whole person...not just a bottom. I want the guys I play with at the party to know this. I want them to appreciate the whole person and not just the spankable bottom attached to the person.

I have obsessed about my weight most of my life. It started when I was a skinny child. I was self-conscious because I was so much skinnier than the other kids. I was a sickly child and it seemed like I was always down with something--measles, chicken pox, mumps, tonsillitis, pertussis (whooping cough), pleurisy, etc. Name something, I probably had it. I have a distinct memory, one windy spring day as a 7-year-old, hearing my grandmother advise my mother to put rocks in my pocket or I would blow away. That's how it started with me worrying about my weight. My grandmother also advised my mother to give me larger portions than my siblings got at mealtimes in order to put some weight on me. My mother, being a dutiful daughter, took her mother's advice. Somehow, I managed to equate my being underweight (which was actually a result of all of the illnesses I had had) with my somehow being a bad kid. I felt, in my childish brain, that was something I had caused and that, because of it, I was bringing shame on my family. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that's how 7-year-olds reason things out. I should add right now that my parents were blameless in this. Neither of them made a big deal out of my weight. It was only my grandmother who was bothered by it and since my mother loved peace and quiet, she gave in to her mother's nagging on the subject. My grandmother also had her own ideas about what to do about my hearing loss, but thank God my  mother ignored those. Don't get me wrong. My grandmother wasn't an evil person. I quite liked her. She was thin and sickly, too, mostly from what was whispered among the other women in the family as "lady's problems". Believe me, I had "lady's problems" and they did not interfere with my ability to eat. Anyway, I wanted to be a "good girl" in my family's eyes, so I ate everything that was given to me. Is it any wonder that I had zero self-control when it came to food? As I grew, I began to get bigger and taller. I got hips and breasts in large amounts. Then I began to feel that I was too fat. Thus began my fat odyssey. All through it, my parents never once led me to believe that they loved me less because of my weight. Both of my parents were overweight as well (even though they were normal weight when they married). Needless to say, I spent most of my 20's and 30's stressing about my weight. It wasn't until I entered the spanking scene as a 42-year-old that I finally managed to find some acceptance about my size. Then came Fetlife. On Fetlife, I saw that there were a lot of very pretty, young thin women there and I began to have doubts again. But I went to parties and had fun despite knowing that I wasn't the best-looking lady there.

Then in August, 2010 my world changed forever. I had a heart attack, which I devoted several blog entries to back when it happened. At the time I had my myocardial infarction, I weighed 235 pounds. I knew I couldn't remain that heavy so I had to make some very drastic changes. I got rid of the potato chips, ice cream, candy and other unhealthy things that had basically comprised my diet. I even got rid of my bacon and eggs, two things I loved more than just about anything else. I had every intention of sticking to this diet. But I didn't. When it came to food, it was like I couldn't control myself. Instead of losing weight, I got heavier. At my heaviest, right before I finally got a job in August, 2011, I weighed 255 pounds. This is the photo that I had taken for my state ID right before I got hired. I didn't want to put 255 on my ID so I lied and put 235. I sincerely doubt that I fooled anyone. 

 I'd managed to gain 20 pounds in the year following my heart attack. Plus, I had no medical supervision whatsoever. I was unemployed and uninsured. I knew I had to buckle down and get myself down something approaching an acceptable weight. By the time I attended the Crimson Moon October party in 2011 (during which my Cardinals won the World Series) I had managed to lose 15 pounds. But I was still way too heavy. It didn't stop people from playing with me though.

Poor Tony, I'm practically crushing him here. But we had a great time playing. I kind of sensed that, due to the Cardinals' World Series win his interest in spanking me was purely because I was a fellow Cardinal fan and it seemed an appropriate way to celebrate. I had no illusions that he found me attractive on any other level. But as I continued on in my weight loss journey, a wonderful thing happened. I began to see results. Clothes I hadn't been able to wear before I could now fit into. I got into better shape as well, walking home from work everyday. Sometimes, I walked there and back. I began to see a more toned body. I wasn't necessarily any thinner. But in the Spring of 2012, I posted my first fully nude shot of myself on my Fetlife profile.

It was nothing earth shattering. And I posed the shot in my own way, still ashamed to show the front of my body. Just a month or so before the photo was taken, I'd gotten my first tattoo. I was feeling better and better about myself. When I shot this nude shot, I weight 220 pounds, 35 pounds less than when I started. I had decided months before this to grow my hair out, too so as I got thinner, my hair got longer. I was still self-conscious, but willing to show a little more of myself. I saw ladies who were way heavier than I was being happy with themselves and showing themselves with confidence and I figured, if they could do it, then I could do it, too. I started to get private messages from friends asking me if I would please post a photo of myself sticking my bottom up in the air, and the "famous" Cheryl Kay bottom up shot was born.

This was one of the first that I did, hiding behind my glasses (as has sometimes been my habit). These shots also spelled the beginning of other kinds of photo requests and I began to have fun with them. The number of photos on my profile ballooned and so did my confidence. Occasionally, I would a random message from a stranger saying "Why do you think you're the hottest thing on Fetlife? Cover up that disgusting flab!" but I was just as likely to get something along the lines of "You're looking very good these days" from friends. I didn't let my detractors discourage me, but continued on my journey. Sometimes, I would get down on myself, but I was determined to be down to 200 when the July, 2012 Crimson Moon party came around. Try as I might, I couldn't make it. I weighed 205 when I got to Chicago that summer.

I had begun to do nude shots because friends of mine would request them. Sometimes, I obliged and sometimes, I would say "no". It depended on how I was feeling. Just a few weeks before the CM party that summer, I did my first nude bottom up shot. It was difficult because my camera only has a ten second timer on it and it would take some time to get my hair the way I wanted it (preferably covering my breasts or arms, which I was self-conscious about) and also to tuck my gut out of the way. Over time, I got pretty good at them. My favorites are bottom up shots in which I'm only wearing panties or a thong.

Again, I had to make sure that the breasts and belly were safely tucked out of sight before I would post a photo. I've kind of plateaued as far as my weight loss goes, but I've managed to bring my BMI down to 31%. That sounds like a lot, but just before I started this weight loss, it was at 35%. So I've gained some muscle. As I gained muscle, I gained confidence. I did shots from the side, sometimes nude, sometimes in panties or a thong. These side shots became another favorite. A friend of mine refers to these kinds of shots as "prudie nudies". I don't really show anything beyond some skin.

I made sure that my hair covered my upper arms (a problem area for me) and I made sure that my breasts weren't showing. This blog about my weight has sort of morphed into the evolution of my photos. But I wanted to show that my confidence levels have a direct influence on my photos. With the big Atlantic City party coming up, I'm sure a lot of photos will get taken of me (mostly getting spanked). Of course, as always I will stress a bit about my gut showing in my photos, but I won't let that spoil the fun.

Yes, I'm fat. But I'm also pretty confident most of the time. If you're going to the party, too come over and say "Hi" to me. Don't let the fact that I'm not a size two stop you from talking to me and/or asking me to play. I fully intend to have a great time and I'm not going to let the people who won't play with me because of my size bother me. Yes, I'm fat.