Gender: Female
City: ENCINO
State: California
Country: US
Signup Date: 12/27/2005
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Saturday, November 07, 2009
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Current mood:  nostalgic
When I posted my 100 Random Spanking Facts, I got several questions regarding my call-in to the Dr. Phil show, as I figured I would. Some of you remember the story, because you were there on my MSN board as it all played out. But many of you weren't. So I figured I'd recount it, to the best of my recollection.
Seven years ago, when SCSW was quite lively, we had a member named Jesse. Y'all remember Jesse, don't you? Little spitfire, always wrote in a red font, signed her posts with a rose emoticon. God, I loved that kid. Anyway, for reasons I don't recall, maybe it was on a dare, she had contacted the Dr. Phil show via email, introduced herself and talked about her spanking fetish, about the scene, etc., and wanted to know if the show had any interest in such a topic. I guess she didn't expect to hear anything back, but she did -- and they wanted her to come on the show! Imagine her shock... anyway, she backed down, because she didn't want to appear on national TV, talking about her personal kinks. But she told them she had many friends in the scene, and perhaps one of them would be interested in taking her place. The first person she mentioned was yours truly.
So I thought, why not. I wrote a letter to the show's coordinator, introducing myself (I recently discovered I still have that email, tucked away in my archives). And sure enough, I heard back from the woman, who wanted ME to come on the show. I got all excited -- wow! I'd be on TV! The attention whore in me jumped up and down, and thought, how fun this would be. I didn't even think about the possible ramifications -- until I told J about it.
He asked me if I'd lost my mind. Did I really want to out myself on national television? Not just our friends would see me, he reminded me. Everyone would see me, or hear about me. And if I didn't care about outing myself, didn't I realize that I'd be outing him as well, by association? Well, crap. No, I hadn't thought of that.
Damn. So I called the coordinator back and said I couldn't do it. Then she asked if I'd like to be an anonymous caller instead, on "Ask Dr. Phil Day." They had that theme now and then, where people would call in with their issue and he'd give them a quickie analysis of it on the spot, with the help of his audience. She thought that topic would be very interesting and pique a lot of curiosity, and they'd use it during "sweeps" month. To this, I said yes, absolutely.
Of course, it's hardly a spontaneous thing, as it seems on the show. The callers are pre-screened, and everything they plan to say is pre-approved. I had to write out what I was going to ask Dr. Phil and send it to her for her OK. That was a little awkward, since she had no idea of anything I was talking about and discussing it with her was a bit weird. But I figured she'd seen/heard it all, on that show. Basically, I was going to talk about having a lifelong spanking fetish, how I belonged to a group of enthusiasts who numbered in the thousands and spanned the globe, and would ask him what his take on it was. Pure titillation, now that I look back on it. I was just being used as "weirdo of the day" for sweeps ratings. But I didn't know that then.
So, the day came, and I had to call in to the show early, and sit on the line, listening to the segments before me going on. And then it was my turn. Dr. Phil came on the line, and I opened up my mouth and said my spiel. As I did, the camera panned the audience. Mouths dropped open. Eyes widened. Some people grinned; others looked horrified.
Dr. Dickhead then proceeded to completely drop the ball, and instead of replying to me, he went straight to the woman in the audience who looked the most scandalized, and said, "What do you think of what Louise [the name I used] asked?" And she blurted, "She's a freak!" Nice. Then he comes back to me and says, "Well, Louise, do you think you're a freak?" I said no, I do not, and then added, "Don't knock it until you've tried it." Laughter.
I honestly don't remember the details of what was said in the next couple of minutes. Mostly he kept talking to that one uptight woman (sheesh, pull out the corncob, lady), and not letting me say too much. Finally toward the end, he wrapped it up in a bow with some canned psychobabble about how whatever consenting adults do is OK, and as long as you're safe/not hurting anyone/blah blah blah, whatever floats your boat.
I then cut in and said, "Well, that's pretty much what I thought you'd say, Dr. Phil. In fact, my friends and I thought maybe you might be into it yourself."
The audience laughed like hell. And for about two seconds, the big pompous gasbag was speechless. Then he kind of sputtered, "Uhhhh... I consider myself fairly avant garde. But I'll leave the spanking to you!" Idiot.
So, that was the closest I ever came to being on television. I wish I had used my real name, instead of copping out and using a fake one. But J insisted my voice was recognizable. I didn't want to freak him out, so I complied.
Putting that list together brought back a lot of memories. I really have had some interesting adventures since 1996. I hope to have many more.
Speaking of adventures -- this weekend, in spirit, I'm elsewhere. On the East coast, I am longing to be at Florida Moonshine, where many of my friends will be. Have fun, all of you. Save up lots of stories for me! And on the West coast, D is teaching a spanking class, with demos, at Sanctuary in Denver tonight. Knock 'em dead, honey. I know you'll do great. Wish I could've been your "lovely assistant."
Have a great weekend, y'all.
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Wednesday, November 04, 2009
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Current mood:  thoughtful
I've seen this floating around in the spanking blogosphere lately. My first thought was, how the hell does anyone come up with 100 items? It’s not that easy. I actually had to compose this in Word, which I never do, so I could come back to it.
Granted, none of this is new material. I've been blogging for years and posting on forums for many years before that, so I don't think any of these tidbits will come as a surprise to most. Then again, who knows? At least it gets all the facts and figures and trivia down in one place. A lot of it, anyway.
So, for those who already know all this stuff, I apologize. But truly, I can't think of anything else to write about at the moment. These are in no particular order.
1. I played spanking games with my dolls when I was little. Specifically, Ken spanked Barbie. 2. Yes, I looked up the word "spank" (plus paddle, wallop and all the synonyms) in the dictionary. 3. My parents weren't spankers; they were more into grounding, taking away TV privileges, stuff like that. I remember a few whacks and one OTK spanking, but other than that, not much, considering I grew up in a time where everyone smacked their kids. 4. As a child, I wrote spanking stories, drew spanking pictures and created spanking scenarios with my Etch-a-Sketch. 5. I first saw a boy give a girl an OTK spanking when I was 15. He was 16, she was 14, and it was brief but energetic. I had a rabid crush on him from afar after that. 6. I got many threats of spankings in my teens and early 20s. I always wished the boys would follow through, but they didn't. 7. In my first job out of college, I worked as a proofreader for a typesetting company whose biggest client produced porn, so I had to proof a lot of smut. Once in a while, to my delight, there were kinky spanking scenes, and I read and reread them. 8. I blush. Bright, hot, beet red, forehead to neck, when someone threatens me with a spanking. I hate it. 9. I collected comic books when I was a kid. Every time I got a new one, the first thing I would do is flip through to see if there was a spanking scene. There often was. 10. I discovered Shadow Lane via an ad they used to post in the classified section of Cosmopolitan magazine. It was my first clue that there were actually organized groups for people into this. 11. My very first adult spanking was Memorial Day, 1996. I met the man by answering his ad. 12. Eventually, the roleplay I did during that first spanking was adapted into the script for Spank Thy Neighbor. 13. My first spanko crush ever was Keith Jones. 14. I met my boyfriend of over 13 years by placing an ad in the "Alternatives" section of the LA Weekly. I wasn't online yet. I got about 250 replies to that ad. 15. The first kink party I ever went to, and played publicly at, was not Shadow Lane. It was a Threshold Halloween party, in October 1996. Threshold is a BDSM club; gawd, did I see some weird stuff that night. Like an old man dressed up in a hoop skirt ala Scarlett O'Hara. Except he had no underwear on under the skirt. Ew. 16. My first Shadow Lane party was February 1997, at the Sportsmen's Lodge in So. CA. I have been to every SL party since. Even then as a novice, I bruised one man's hand. 17. When I first got into the scene, I had a "no implements" rule. That sure changed! 18. I was terrified of the cane. The first time J used one on me, it was just six light strokes, as I stood clinging to an overhead bar. Afterward, my hands were so frozen onto that bar, he had to peel them off, finger by finger. 19. My first public scene at Shadow Lane was a double caning; I was on a spanking bench, and J and a friend of ours were on either side of me, caning me simultaneously. 20. I was too shy to introduce myself to Ralph Marvell. So J took matters into his own hands, waited until we were standing next to each other at a Vendor Fair, and then bumped into me, sending me crashing right into Ralph. Then he (J) said loudly, "Erica, you just bumped into that man. That's not very nice." Oh, that man of mine. 21. It was a public scene at SL in Palm Springs 1999, with Ralph, that gave me the courage to inquire about being in spanking videos. We drew a huge crowd and got a standing ovation. 22. My first video was shot in January 2000. I was 42 years old. 23. I got to keep the red suit from my first SL video. Once, I wore it to a vanilla Xmas party for J’s work. He almost croaked when he realized where I’d gotten it. 24. I discovered at my first shoot that I was good at ad-libbing smart-ass remarks. It quickly became a trademark of mine, on and off camera. 25. I worked for five months at a pro dungeon in 2000, as a sub. Needless to say, I wasn’t very good at it. 26. At this dungeon, I wore a silver collar. It is the only time I have ever worn one, and I never will again. 27. The weirdest thing that ever happened to me in that dungeon was a client sang “You’re Lovely to Look At” to me. Swear to god. 28. The nickname “Bionic Bottom” was given to me by Keith Jones. We once did a two-hour scene with a lot of caning, and during aftercare, I faded so quickly that he commented, “Excuse my French, but your bottom is fucking bionic. It’s healing right before my eyes.” 29. I look ridiculous when I pout. Therefore, I smirk instead. 30. I love to be spanked one cheek at a time. However, dead center strikes are the absolute worst, for me. Makes things hurt that I don’t want hurting. 31. I generally prefer to keep my legs closed during a spanking. Better protection. 32. I hate heavy wooden paddles, anything studded, and rubber. Oh, and whips. I prefer sting over thud, but whips can cut, and go places I don’t want them to go. 33. I helped co-manage a very active spanking forum on MSN for several years, before they shut down their Adult Groups. Our group orientation was M/F only. At our peak, we had about 15,000 members. 34. When I first got into the scene and was learning who was who, my first “role model” was Chelsea Pfeiffer. I watched her in Blue Denim, and loved her feisty, bratty character—who was named Erica. 35. Several years ago, I made a pre-arranged phone call in to the Dr. Phil show, on “Ask Dr. Phil Day.” I used the name Louise (my middle name) and asked him for his take on the spanking fetish. The pompous fathead tried to make a fool out of me, but I had the last laugh on him. 36. Speaking of Louise, I share that middle name with two very popular spanking models. Not naming their names, though.
Some spanking fantasies I’ve been lucky enough to make into realities:
37. Going to spanking parties and playing publicly. 38. Acting in spanking videos. 39. Getting a spanking from my handsome and sexy (and definitely non-spanko) personal trainer. 40. Writing my own video scripts. 41. Compiling and self-publishing my spanking stories. 42. Collaborating with Danny Chrighton to write, shoot and produce our own spanking video, with the exact script I wanted. 43. Going through a very intense discipline scene, and then the top sending me flowers. 44. I’m not big on nudity in spanking videos; it often seems gratuitous to me. However, I appeared naked in When Danny Met Erica, to purposely send a message to the youth-worshipping industry, and society in general: “Hey! This is what 50 looks like, you ageist asshats!” 45. The word “bottom,” in spanking context, gives me goose bumps and butterflies. Particularly when it’s combined with “bare.” 46. Conversely, the word “tushy” makes my flesh crawl. 47. I also like the other “b” words: behind, backside. Butt is OK, but it doesn’t give me the same thrill. 48. I really don’t have a problem with the word “ass.” I just don’t like it in scene context. 49. My all-time favorite mainstream spanking scene is the one from Wagon Train with Robert Horton and Susan Oliver. It doesn’t matter how many times I see that scene; it always makes me swoon. 50. I like the Elvis/Jenny Maxwell scene in Blue Hawaii, too. But the movie is awful. 51. I know this is practically sacrilege in the spanking community, but I don’t like the movie McLintock. I don’t like John Wayne, either. 52. J and I have had the police called on us twice, because of spanking noise. Two different homes (both his), two different neighborhoods. Fortunately, both times we managed to convince the cops that there was no domestic abuse going on. 53. When J lived in Studio City, we ate Sunday brunch every weekend at a restaurant with underground parking. Guess who got spanked in that parking garage nearly every Sunday? 54. I once was playing with a friend at his office after hours, and the janitor walked in on us at 9:30 at night. Thank goodness, we heard him coming and stopped what we were doing, but I’m sure he heard a thing or two. He was in a very big hurry to clean up and leave. 55. I am not into pranks as a rule. However, one of my finer moments was having a friend Photoshop-alter a picture of me being spanked by a playmate; I had him replace the top’s head with Alfred E. Neuman’s head. (You know, the kid from Mad Magazine.) And then, of course, I posted it in the MSN forum, saying, “Look, everyone! This is what [deleted] looks like! Isn’t he cute? Shame about his front tooth—I guess some overzealous bottom kicked it out with a stiletto heel.” 56. Most creative/bizarre retaliation/punishment ever: I had to learn—and sing—the Oscar Mayer Wiener theme song… in Spanish. Don’t ask. And yes, I was being spanked while I sang it. 57. I have counted swats in Italian, French, Spanish and prime numbers. Sorry, German lovers. I can only count to four in German. 58. I do not switch. I have topped once, on video, for Spanking Epics. I had to paddle my “daughter” in Schoolmaster’s Revenge. Fortunately, it was a very brief scene. I hated every second of it and I still can’t watch myself topping, but I really wanted to be in that video. It was worth it, But never again. 59. If I were to ever get a personalized license plate, I’d try to get away with “emknaps.” (spank me spelled backward) 60. I have had my spanking pictures appear in the amateur photography section of Taboo magazine. 61. Another fulfilled fantasy was appearing in Shadow Lane’s Stand Corrected magazine. I just made it—I was in the final issue. 62. Something I haven’t done yet that I really, really want to do: Go to a Florida Moonshine party. 63. Someone whom I haven’t played with yet, but really, really want to: “Uncle Eric” from Denver:

Some day, that look will be fixed upon me!
64. Another word that brings out the goose bumps and the blushes for me is “punish.” I have no idea why. 65. I think it’s extremely hot when a man is strong enough to throw me over his shoulder and haul me away for a spanking. 66. Even though they are popular with many in the spanking community, I do not own a single pair of white cotton panties. I am not pre-adolescent. However, I do have a white lace thong and a pair of white bikinis with colored trim. 67. I am an introvert. I know I don’t seem like one at spanking parties, but my natural predisposition is to be a loner and avoid crowds. For whatever reason, a sort of alter ego makes an appearance when I’m in a spanking realm. 68. Very early in my scene days, a top bought me a garter belt and stockings. I had no idea how to put them on; I had to ask him to fasten the garters for me. I know how to do it now, but I still prefer to ask J to fasten them for me. 69. I have trouble with eye contact when spankers are scolding me. I always want to look down, away, anywhere but in their eyes. Very squirmy. 70. Although I have put my hands back to my bottom during spanking videos, I never do so when playing on my own. Getting your hand whacked accidentally (or on purpose!) with an implement is not fun. 71. I am a firm believer that spanking is on the bottom only, or on the uppermost portion of the upper thighs (AKA the “sweet spot”). Hitting on the legs, calves, feet, hands, breasts, etc., is not spanking. And it’s not for this girl. 72. People ask me which of my videos I like best. I like them all, for different reasons. But I think I am the most proud of When Danny Met Erica. 73. Favorite sacrilegious line ever: While playing a fake nun in Trouble in Carson’s Gap, ripping the veil off my head and grumbling, “Christ, this thing is hot.” 74. Favorite adlib (well, one of them, anyway): When Steve Fuller’s character in The Spanking Professor claims that I inferred something, and I reply, “No, actually, I implied it. What kind of professor are you, anyway?” 75. Favorite comeback to an adlib: Same scene—Steve’s response to me is, “History professor, dear. And your butt’s going to be history in about five minutes.” Clever man, that Mr. Fuller. 76. Most foolish adlib ever: When about to be whaled on with a nasty implement by “Dr. D,” who says in a sarcastically jovial voice, “What’s the matter, Scott??”, I snap back, “Nothing, Dr. Dumbass.” 77. Sometimes, during spanking scenes, I really don’t think before I speak. Shocking, I know. 78. I actually like the way my bottom and legs look on camera. But I don’t like my face. My initial reaction when I first saw myself was, “Oh my god, is my nose really that big?” 79. Watching a man roll up his sleeves, while pinning me with a stern stare, turns my knees to Jell-O. 80. If you call me naughty, I squirm in a good way. If you call me nasty, I cringe. 81. One of my former play partners was married to the Progressive Insurance girl (not anymore, however, and she’s remarried). No, she wasn’t really into being spanked, hence his playing with others (with her full knowledge). I once talked with him on the phone and she was yelling bratty commentary in the background. 82. I dressed up once like a schoolgirl, about 12 years ago, for a party. I let J and friends of ours talk me into it. I felt like a complete fool and never did it again. 83. No one in my family knows about me. Not that I have that much family anyway... 84. I love OTK, lying over a chair or couch, on a bed with pillows piled up under my belly. But one position I categorically refuse to assume: bending over and grabbing my knees/ankles. 85. I love chocolate anytime, but it tastes especially wonderful to me after a spanking. 86. My favorite spanking video of all time is Shadow Lane’s Spoiled Rotten, with Keith Jones and Tanya Foxx. After I saw that, I had a fantasy of being spanked over a pool table. 87. I actually lived that fantasy as well. It wasn’t as hot as it looked on video; in fact, it was damned uncomfortable! 88. I once toyed with the idea of getting a tiny pair of red lips tattooed to my bottom (as in Kiss My Ass). J talked me out of it. I’m so glad. 89. A top once told me I had “Victorian white” skin. I always thought “Victoria White” would be a good scene pseudonym. However, I decided to keep it simple and stuck with my real first name. 90. There wasn’t any particular significance in choosing the last name Scott. My real surname starts with an S as well, and I wanted something simple that people would remember and spell correctly. (I was tired of seeing how many different ways the model Kiri Kelly had her name butchered.) 91. I don’t like having my hair yanked on during a spanking, but if a man winds his hand into my hair and then simply tightens his fist, that makes me shudder in a very good way. 92. I detest it if a top demands that I call him “Sir.” But under the right circumstance, I find myself saying it voluntarily. 93. However, I will never, ever, EVER call a top Daddy, under any circumstance. 94. Many women fantasize about movie/TV stars spanking them. I’m the only one I know who fantasized about being spanked by a fictional character on a soap opera. 95. I love to sit on a top’s lap afterward and be held close. 96. As much as I look at myself in mirrors, I don’t like to be spanked in front of one. I will bury my head in my arms. Actually, I tend to do that anyway. 97. I don’t like having to pull down my own panties; I find it much hotter when the man does it for me. 98. I have a problem with safe words; I’m too stubborn to use them, even when I should. 99. My favorite analogy about spanking and sex is that they are like cake and ice cream. Some people like them together. Others prefer to enjoy them separately. I love both, but don’t like to mush them together. I’d rather enjoy each one individually and fully. 100. And finally… my absolute, all-time, far-and-away favorite spanker is… ... ... ... ... ... ...
Yeah, right!! Do I have “stupid” written on my forehead?? Even if I could pick one, I’d never tell! 
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Saturday, October 31, 2009
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Current mood:  mischievous
Happy almost Halloween! Here's some scary stuff for ya. cute is cute and your a fuckin damn cuite! You heard it here, people. I'm not just cute -- I'm fuckin damn cute. (I'm going to assume that cuite was meant to be cutie.) cum to me in vegas using my decades of experence make your kitty purr in exotuc sex grampa master xxx
I've got a newsflash for you, grampa. The only thing that gets me to that hellhole called Vegas is the Shadow Lane parties. My kitty can purr just fine right here at home, thankyouverymuch.
But wait, there's more. This guy was on Alt.com -- check out his profile blurb:
Iam a 72 year ould white male that likes esotic sex. IM LOOKING FOR A TOTALLY uninhibited woman for kinky sex. I AM VERY ORAL ACTIVE And here I thought it was just the Text Generation who couldn't spell. Pray tell, what is esotic? Did he mean exotic, erotic or esoteric? And is it just me, or does Oral Active sound like a good name for a new mouthwash?
I honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry at the next one:
i generaly date woman older than me theres many reasons for that.i luv the matureity and nolage and sefistication.and in generaly atracted to older woman since i was a teenager.thats a nuff about me.
How does someone who writes like this function in life?? Can someone please enlighten me? I really am in need of this nolage. Before I post the final one, let me reiterate, folks -- I do not make this stuff up. I swear. These are posted to you as I receive them, except I delete the names and email addresses. Truth is stranger than fiction.
have 30 + years of experience, am skilled in almost all facets of the lifestyle, enjoy breast bondage, nipple play, oral, anal, and a good woman who is dedicated and serves me because she wants to. I have a 3bdrm home, a 1200 sq ft workshop I am remodeling into a dungeon, and I seek a good woman to join me here and enhance this home of mine. age means nothing to me, the more novice the better as there are less bad habits to break.Maturity and knowledge count for something, experience and wisdom also. I am strict, firm, but careing and thoughtful. I provide all necessities for my partner, including a good social life, a stable home, good training, protection mentally and physically, and require no outside work.I would think that in this uncertain day and age that there would be a good real slave ready to accept a good home. If your tired of the chase, the pain of the fakes and frauds, tired of the search and not finding what you seek, drop me a line ok.I am a totally open Master, I do beleave this is a two way street, and that a real true sub/slave will overlook the small things in life, as we are all not perfect. My messenger is xxxxxxxxxx at y Hope to talk to you there.I will make the first contact, the rest is up to you if your willing to take it further your contact to me is necessary, I will not chase, I have the means and ways of making a good life, and I am certain one who seeks it will find me.
He's not going to chase me?? Boohooooo! I'm crushed!
Please tell me that no one would seriously respond to this. Please, please, please. I'm begging here. I'll bet his stable home is literally a stable.
To all the smart, articulate, clever and classy men I know: I LOVE YOU! THANK YOU FOR EXISTING!
OK, that's a nuff. Onward to the weekend. Guess who's sick again?? (sigh) Looks like I'll be Nurse Erica for Halloween. Sucks. Oh well, you guys can have some extra Halloween fun on my behalf. Eat some chocolate for me.
Have a great weekend, y'all. Stay safe.
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Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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Current mood:  moody
So why am I blogging? I dunno. Because I feel like it? Oh, and for you observant types, I'm not actually blogging at 10:30 PM -- it's only 3:30. Why did I manually set my blog time up 7 hours? Long story, but that's the only way I can get updated on Spanking Universe in proper time. For whatever reason, this site sets my clock seven hours back, and when I blog, it turns up wayyy down on the page on Universe, saying that I blogged seven hours ago. Lame! You know, things should work better. I'm just sayin'. I do have some work to do, but I'm procrastinating. Come on... would you be in a huge hurry to proofread 200+ pages about statistics?? I didn't think so. Thank God, it's just proofreading, not any sort of editing. I don't have to understand what I'm reading, just fix the occasional spelling error. (yawn) On the plus side, this is from a favorite client who never pushes for an unreasonable deadline, never complains about the bill, and actually volunteered to give me more money per hour when I hadn't raised my rates with them for years. So, I can't bitch too much. Can I just say that I'm happy to be back home from the gym? I've had my quota of people exposure for the day. When I go on Monday mornings, it's a very different sort of crowd -- a lot of housewives and retired older men. And they love to talk. And talk. And talk. They either sit and hog a piece of equipment, or they cluster around right in front of one and I can't get to it. Usually I can tune their chitchat out, but today, a man and a woman were discussing, very loudly and in graphic detail, the intestinal woes of the man's dog. Oh, for God's sake. Do we all really need to hear this? I tried cranking up my iPod a bit, but their voices were so loud, I could still hear them over "Novocaine for the Soul." Fitting, that. I could have used some novocaine for my ears. I'm quite proud of myself, though. It took a lot of my own intestinal fortitude to refrain from snapping, "Will you shut the hell up?? You're making me sick!" Oh, and just a bit of warning -- come two weekends from now, I believe I'm going to be quite cranky. (OK, cranki ER. Happy now?) It seems that these days, all the fun spanky stuff is going on everywhere else but here. First. there's a Florida Moonshine party that weekend. I have yet to make it to one of those, and I really want to. And that same weekend, at a club called Sanctuary in Denver, D (yes, that D) is going to present a class about spanking. How fun is that? Talking and demonstrating. He wrote to me and asked if I'd like to fly out and be "his lovely assistant." Don't I wish! That certainly appeals to the exhibitionist in me! Plus, Sanctuary is mostly a BDSM club, so I guess this class/demo is unusual for them -- I could show them a thing or two about just how much fun spanking is!  Alas... I don't have the $$$ for these trips. Sometimes I wonder how people afford to go to all these parties. Do they give up eating or something? (grumble) Yeah, sour grapes. I'm envious. I wanna go, dammit. Boo-freaking-hoo. Not to worry, though. I do plan to snap out of this mood very soon. It's tiresome. Besides, I need to keep my crankiness in reserve for November/December. Oh boy -- it's the holidays again, people! You know what that means! The Grinchette returns!  Yeah, I know what I need. You don't have to tell me. I'm going to go read about statistics now...
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Saturday, October 24, 2009
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Current mood:  naughty
Well, since my last two blogs were rants, it seems fitting that I cap off the week with a new CHoS, yes? Before I commence with that, a bit of blog business. Check out Richard Windsor's new site, Spanking Universe. http://spankinguniverse.blogspot.com/ He has taken dozens of popular spanking blogs and linked them all up in one place, and you can see updates of all the blogs you like without going to each one individually. If you want to be added to his list, his email is on the site. And if you are on there, take a minute, return the favor and link back to him on your own blog. I would do so, if I had that capability here, but I do not, hence my announcement. Here goes. Let's get the "same old, same old" out of the way first, shall we? cant believe you are 52 with that firm ass and pretty face
OK, this one at least noticed my face. But please, for the millionth time, why is it so unbelievable? I know, I know. Give it up. They won't change. But it's still makes me feel better to bitch about it. have u ever sent someone ur pabties yet?
My what? Sorry, I'm not familiar with pabties, so I'm quite certain I've never sent them.
Then, a couple of days later, same guy:
hi love ur pics , i was wondering how u would feel about sending me a pair of ur panties?
Oh, panties! Why didn't you say so? In that case... NO.
whats up? u like younger cock
What's up? Apparently, you are. Well, it really depends on the younger man who is attached to the younger cock. In your case, I'm thinking probably not.
This week's WTF??? entry:
not for you getting you mad at all you have a nice Ass. smile Dude, don't drink and type. Especially with one hand.
And finally:
Thank you so much for the add I wish U were my mom we would hook up all the time you are Beautiful & Amazing
I'm quite at a loss with this one. Might I suggest a therapist who is an expert in dealing with the Oedipus complex? (shudder)
I think I'm going to take a shower. With lots and lots of soap. Have a great weekend, y'all.
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Tuesday, October 20, 2009
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Current mood:  impatient
Thanks to the World Wide Web, the blogosphere, the Twitter-sphere, the forums, etc., etc., there are a bazillion sources for spanking information out there. And a lot of places where people pose questions. Some blogs are interactive, like this one, and like one of my favorite's, Pixie's. Pixie is very good at coming up with original questions, like her latest about how embarrassment figures into your spanking scene. A disclaimer before I launch into this: Yes, I know that there are new people coming into the scene every day. And what's old to the veterans is new to them. So I do realize that certain questions will be asked over and over and over. I don't mind answering a lot of them more than once. I mean, it's quite legitimate for a new person to ask what subspace is like. Or questions about etiquette (or protocols, as the BDSMers call it), how to go about meeting playmates, etc. I don't have a problem with any of that. But come on, people. A little imagination is in order. There are certain topics that appear, repeatedly, ad nauseam, on damn near every forum. Did I mention repeatedly? I recently asked for original topics on spanking in my status, because I try hard to come up with things that are fresh, that haven't been answered to death. My former co-manager on SCSW, Becca, was one of the best at coming up with original topics. I mean, she'd ask stuff like, where's the weirdest place where your panties ended up, after a top yanked them off, or after you kicked them off as they dangled around your ankles? Funny! OK, the topics don't have to be that off the wall. But please. Do we really, really need these tired old chestnuts again and again? 1. What celebrity would you like to spank/be spanked by? (groan) If I had a dollar for every time I read Britney Spears/Lindsay Lohan/Paris Hilton/etc., I could retire. Sure, I had my few minutes of fun imagining some hunky male movie/TV star hauling me over his knee. Years ago, when The Practice was on, I posted about how I dreamed that Dylan McDermott showed up at a Shadow Lane party. And then I was done with it. I am so, so tired of seeing this question still turning up everywhere. How many times can one answer it? And why are we all so celebrity-obsessed, anyway? But that's a whole other subject. 2. What's your favorite implement? Again... how many times can one answer this? Come on! Come up with a variation, at least. On FetLife, someone asked which implement you fear most. OK, at least that's somewhat different. Or someone else asked, which implement did you think you'd never allow, but you ended up liking? Again, more specific. And makes people think a bit more. 3. What's your favorite "buzz phrase"? Oy. Granted, I have plenty of my own. But you know, it gets old reading the same old list of "over my knee, young lady" and "I'm going to teach you a good lesson, missy" and "you won't sit down for a week" and "I think it's time for the business end of my hairbrush and your bottom to have a little discussion." (OK, that last one made me throw up in my mouth a little.) Once again, there are ways to narrow this down and make it a little more interesting. Recently, I blogged asking why so many grown women seem to like "little girl" phrases so much. I got a lot of thoughtful replies on that one. 4. What's your favorite movie/TV spanking scene? Yeah, yeah, I get it. You like McLintock. (yawwwwn) And while I'm on the subject, can I just say, considering how many people love that damn movie so much, no one knows how to spell it?? It's M cLintock. Not M cClintock. 5. Do you prefer thin, smaller bottoms or "big/bouncy/meaty/jiggly/ample/insert your adjective here" bottoms? People, please stop asking this one. Because no matter what you answer, you're going to insult someone. Stop reducing us to body parts. It's tiresome. These are just a few; there are tons more. But you get my drift. I know, I know, it's a world of computers and Wiis and iPods and iPhones and apps and games and all sorts of gadgetry that does your thinking for you, but some of us remember this neglected little human trait called "imagination." Use it. Really, it does make life and interactions with fellow humans more interesting. I'd like to end this blog with my own question: When did you first know that you were a spanko? KIDDING! I'm kidding! Aaagghhh... please don't answer that one! 
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Friday, October 16, 2009
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Current mood:  cantankerous
I've been gearing up for a proper rant for a while, and now is as good a time as any, I'd say. Two days ago it was raining and I was feeling very serene, and now it's 90 degrees in freaking October, and I'm warm and crabby. Plus, I was inspired by Richard Windsor's ( http://richardwindsor.com/) brilliant rant on his spanking pet peeves. I'm not going to attempt to follow him on that topic, however. I have my own. I fully admit to being a bit reclusive and antisocial. I recently stumbled upon a quote by Sartres that spoke to me: "Hell is other people." OK, not ALL other people. But certainly some of them. Specifically, the folks whom J likes to call "the Entitlement People." You know them. The individuals for whom the rules don't apply. They are above laws, common courtesy, etc. Why? Because they are special; they are better than the rest of us mere mortals. They are entitled, and usually for reasons that exist only in their minds. To quote a good friend of mine: Alert the planetarium. A new center of the universe has been discovered. Allow me to illustrate with some examples. How many of you have met these prototypes? And how many of your own can you add to the list? I'm opening up the floor, folks. Get it off your chest. A quick disclaimer: I am not, not, NOT talking about any of my friends here. These are general observations, not about specific people. Please, don't read any of the following and wonder, "Hey, is she talking about me??" 1. I am a Dominant Male. I am entitled because, well, I say so. I will demand your respect and submission and you will give it willingly and without question, even though I've done nothing to earn it. And you will be grateful. 2. Conversely -- I am a FemDom. I am entitled because I have two X chromosomes, and you pitiful males have only one, therefore making you inferior to Me. But of course, your money isn't inferior, so I expect you to give Me copious quantities. Paying for My rent, My car and My [insert latest enhancement surgery here] would be a good start. In return, I will hurt and humiliate you and treat you like a piece of worthless dreck. Because I CAN. 3. I am a driver. I am entitled to bypass the rules of the road, because my time is worth more than yours. Speed limits? What are those? I will go as fast as I see fit, and if you are in my way, I will tailgate you relentlessly until you move aside. I can't be bothered with signaling, as I am busy talking on my cell, checking my stocks on the Internet, putting on makeup, shaving my legs. I drive in the carpool lane, even though I'm alone in the car. Oh, and if there are two parking spaces, I will pull in and straddle both of them. Because my car is better than yours and I don't want door dings. 4. I am a New-Age parent. I am entitled because my child is cuter, smarter and more talented than yours. And because I don't want to stifle the little darling's creative spirit, I can't possibly impose any discipline. So if my child throws screaming fits in public places, trashes your house when we visit, ruins your meal in a restaurant with his/her racket, there's nothing I can do about that. Oh, and I think movie theaters are the ideal place for babies. If my little bundle of joy babbles, squawks and shrieks through half the dialogue and adversely affects your movie-going experience, oh well. Subscribe to NetFlix. 5. I am a gym member during peak busy times. I realize you pay the same amount for your membership as I do, but I'm still entitled, because my money is better than yours. Or something like that. Therefore, I can hog the machines all I want, even though others are waiting and I know they are. If it's Lats Day, I will sit at the Lat Pull machine and do set after set after set. And in between sets, will I let you work in? Nope... I will just sit there, fiddle with my iPod, text a friend, contemplate my navel. So if you're almost done with your workout and this particular machine is your last one, you're SOL. I have fifteen more sets to go. (yes, this actually happened to me, last week. The guy also had the nerve to get up, leave the machine to go get a drink of water, and when I tried to get on it, he came back and said, "Hey, I'm still using that.") 6. I am a homeowner. I am entitled because I worked damn hard, sucking up to my parents in order to inherit this house. Therefore, I don't have to be a good neighbor because I belong here, and after all, you have the option to move. So if I want to have four dogs that yap night and day and poop on your lawn (well, they certainly can't poop on mine!), then you have to tolerate them. I will have loud, rowdy parties and my guests will park in your driveway. Well, they can't park in the next block, can they? Why should they walk? I will play music at a level that rattles every house on the block on its foundation. You all get to share my TV, too, especially when any kind of sports game is on. 7. I am an apartment dweller. I am entitled because, if I'm not mistaken, my walls are thicker than everyone else's. I guess I'm special. Lucky me, I don't have to worry about disturbing my neighbors. My kids can play handball against our common walls, I can blast my stereo and television at all hours, and I can have barbecues on my patio, even though the rest of you aren't allowed to do so. Oh, and that business about no guest parking? Bahhh. That's not meant for me. If you come home and find that one of my friends has parked in your space, be nice about it. I know, I know, there's never any parking available on our block. You could use some exercise; walk a few blocks. Oh, and you get to be privy on all my screaming arguments with my spouse, because I don't bother to close the windows. So entertaining, you might just want to cancel your cable! 8. And finally, one of my favorites: I am a person who is never on time. I'm not occasionally late; I am chronically late. And I'm entitled, because once again, my time is worth more than yours, and I can't be bothered to make an effort to be punctual. I have way more important things going on and the fact that you have to wait for me means little. After all, I get there when I get there, and I'm worth the wait, right? I can't be counted on when punctuality is essential, sorry. The rest of the world simply has to adjust their clocks around me. Is it any wonder that I live and work alone?? Jeeeezus. Ahhhhh. Nothing like a good cleansing rant. Doesn't change a blessed thing, but if anyone relates and commiserates, it's still worth it. So have at it, everyone. Knock yourself out. And while you're at it, have a great weekend, y'all.
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Tuesday, October 13, 2009
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Current mood:  content
Today is the fourth annual Love Our Lurkers Day, the brainchild of our incomparable Bonnie of My Bottom Smarts ( http://bottomsmarts.blogspot.com/). Many spanko bloggers are participating, and I'm happy to be one of them. I know you guys are out there. I see the blog view count. But so few of you comment. So this is your day. Don't be shy -- come forward, say hello to me. You don't have to say much more than hello, if you don't want to. You can tell me why you like this blog, what you like about spanking, what kind of cereal you like in the morning. It doesn't matter. Just trying to get some of you to "de-lurk." I won't bite, I promise. Bonnie, who has once again organized this event and pulled us all together, will be keeping count of the bloggers participating and the de-lurks they receive. Each year, the count has increased. Let's do it again this year! Of course, comments from my regulars are always welcome too! 
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Monday, October 12, 2009
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Current mood:  blissful
Last night was, in a word, amazing. All went as it was supposed to. J was fine. We had a lovely dinner, the four of us. And then Craig and I had one hell of a scene. Afterward, I told him that I thought it was the hardest scene we've ever had. I think I was mistaken. It wasn't the hardest, nor was it the longest. But it may have been the most intense. And while not the hardest, certainly the most severe. He pushed me in ways I normally won't even entertain the possibility of. And I let him. Sometimes I was scared. Other times I was angry. But I was always willing. We met Craig and Cindy at a very cool little Chinese restaurant called City Wok -- I hadn't been there in a long time, and had forgotten how wonderful the food is. It's not a fancy place, but it's very popular, has a large menu and everything is cooked to order, perfectly prepared. So we had a fun dinner with lots of banter. I wanted to eat more than I did, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to have a full stomach. Funny aside before I get to the serious stuff -- at one point after dinner, without going into a whole lot of detail, I put my foot in my mouth, big time. My mistake was innocent, but still, I was embarrassed. And of course, Craig and J took the opportunity to tease me relentlessly about it. I felt myself getting redder and redder in the face, and I wanted to get under the table and hide. So I did the next best thing -- I grabbed the bag with our leftovers in it, and put the bag over my head. And of course, Craig had to snap a picture of that:  Oy. Despite this, I managed to gather myself and then it was onward to the Lair. We hadn't been there for a couple of months; I was reminded once again of how I really don't like that place. Cindy and J wanted to play in the main room, but there was some really icky scene going on there and they were waiting until it was over, so the four of us hung out in the kitchen. Of course, I was fidgeting and anxious to get to my own scene, so I sat there, trying not to look impatient, squirming under the penetrating looks Craig kept throwing my way. People were coming in and out, getting snacks -- the kitchen door opened, and in walked a naked man. OK, I'm not into naked strangers, especially the types who really should keep their clothes on, if you know what I mean. I couldn't help but notice, this man looked like he had a large, flesh-colored balloon hanging from his crotch. On second glance, I realized this balloon was actually his scrotum, somehow blown up to a big taut balloon, completely swallowing up his member, and just hanging there, looking rather hideous. I thought I was going to be sick. My eyes darted around the kitchen, frantically trying to avoid the sight, but it wasn't easy. Finally Craig called my name, and motioned me into the room next to the kitchen. I thought we were going to start our scene, but he just sat me down and said, "I thought you might like to get out of there -- you looked like you were going to faint." He then explained to me that it was a saline injection -- basically, the guy had had saltwater injected into his scrotal sac until it blew up. And his body would absorb the fluid in a couple of days. Sorry, folks. I know it's live and let live, don't judge other fetishes, blah blah blah. But I was horrified. At least I wasn't the only one -- others were grumbling after he left that he really should have stayed out of the kitchen, that it wasn't exactly an appetizing sight. Amen. Just another night at the Lair, folks! But finally, Craig and I began our scene. I knew it was going to be different from the getgo -- his demeanor was different. And our warmup was different... meaning, we didn't have one. OK, he started with his hand. But freaking HARD. No lighter swats to get the blood flowing, but full force from the start. I was shocked at how much it hurt, and I thought, "Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?" He told me I was out of control and I needed severe discipline, and he was going to give it to me. (gulp) I knew I'd asked for this. I wanted it. I felt the need to be pushed, to be taken out of my own crazy head. But I was scared nonetheless. I don't know how long we scened. It's a blur of implements, most of which hurt like crazy. I did a lot of screaming and hollering, I know that (OK, that's one thing I DO like about the Lair; I can make noise). Craig's tone of voice and demeanor were uncompromising and I didn't dare to brat him, not even in the beginning. I knew I was in deep enough you-know-what as it was without opening my big yap and making it worse. I cried early on. I think the first time was when he was smacking me with something that felt horrible -- large and hard and loud, and it felt like wood. Extremely painful, and my mind screamed, "What IS that? Oh God, I hate this, it's horrible, I can't take it." But I did take it. And when he was done using it, he held it in front of my face so I could see it. It was a large rectangular wooden paddle, with holes in it. The kind I hate. The kind I won't allow anyone to use. I burst into tears. My first thought was, "How could he do that to me? He knows I hate those things!" Then I realized, "That's exactly why he's using it. Because you asked to be pushed. If he pushed you on your terms, that wouldn't exactly be pushing, would it... he's challenging you. Remember, this isn't some sadistic prick who just wants to hurt you. This is someone you trust. He won't hurt you. He's giving you what you need." And so, I settled back down, and I didn't complain. Same deal with the heavy, thuddy cane. I took the dozen or so swats from that stoically, even though I was screaming internally, "Stop stop STOP! I HATE that thing! You know I hate that thing!" Sure enough, after he was done with it, he complimented me for the first time, for taking it so well. Ah, I thought, so I was right. Just go with it, Erica. You'll be OK. After that, he interspersed the pain with small rewards and bouts of compassion, but he certainly wasn't done. More pain -- the carbon fiber cane, the rubber-tipped crop that makes me scream my head off. When he first tapped me with it, I blurted, "Oh no, no, please!" Craig knows me well enough to know that when I'm starting to reach my limit, I do one of two things -- I say the top's name, or I say "please." Not please stop, or please don't, just please. He stopped, knelt down to me and said, " Please means one of two things, Erica -- please continue, or please stop. I need you to tell me which one you mean." Oh, shit. I couldn't bring myself to say please continue, not when I loathed that thing so much. But I also knew that if I said please stop, he would stop -- completely. End the scene. And I couldn't stand for him to do that. I knew I couldn't say, "Please, not too hard," or "Please, not too many." Those weren't options. So I didn't answer... and he continued. I really wish I understand why I need to go to this place of being pushed so hard sometimes, but it is what it is. And because I need to play this hard sometimes, trust is even more imperative than it is with lighter play. I can hate every minute of what's happening to me, and yet know I'm in the best of caring hands and I will come out the other side. Is that submission? What is it? I don't know... it's a side of me that has only recently emerged and it's so completely opposite of my normal play personality. And that side was never more evident in this particular scene than toward the end, when Craig asked me, "Erica, I have an important question for you. I want you to tell me -- are you centered?" And without thinking about it, I heard myself say, "I'm centered when you say I am." I have no idea where that came from. It surprised me. Surprised him, too. We were almost done, but of course, our usual finale with the heavy punishment paddle was still ahead. He told me when it was time, and that this would be the end. "No kicking, and no begging," he warned, "and it will be over when I decide it's over. Do you understand?" Yes, I said. I sucked in some air. This was going to hurt. Flurry after flurry, building in speed and strength, with brief breaks so I could catch my breath, and then starting again. "We're not done yet," he said. More. I heard sounds coming out of my throat that didn't even sound like me. I bore down, took it, took it some more. And then I heard the thump of the paddle being thrown to the carpet. "You're done," he said. I let go then and wept. He held me close, whispered comforting words, told me what a good girl I was, how proud he was of me, how well I took this. Pressed napkins into my hand, gave me water. Let me shudder and shake and gasp, and slowly come back down. No rush. I was OK. Strict Craig was now once again kind and compassionate Craig. All was right with the world, which had shrunk down to the size of the room. Aftercare was long and relaxing; we took our time, talking. He wrapped me in the fur blanket and let me lie on the table, while he sat beside me. It was perfect, save for one distraction. For whatever reason, some woman had come into the room and was in the corner, in the dark, lying on the carpet by herself, pleasuring herself and making funny noises. OhhhhhKay. Like I said, just another night at the Lair. Finally, I was able to sit up, pull myself together, put my dress back on, try to smooth down my wildly mussed hair. Craig put all the toys away into his bag, and we left the room. Back to reality. And cookies, of course. I had remembered to stick two of them into my purse. Amazing how good those things taste at 2:00 in the morning after someone's been beating the bejesus out of you.  We rejoined J and Cindy, and stayed in the kitched for a while talking with others, but I was toast and Cindy had been up since 5:30 that morning, so it was time to head out. John scraped me into the car and drove us home, and I could barely get my clothes off and my teeth brushed before I fell into the bed at 3:00 am. Today, I was very sore, but relaxed. My head was quiet, and I was smiling. Thanks, Craig. For taking the time to know me, to read me, for caring enough to give me what I need with the right measure of sternness and kindness. And thanks to our mates, too, for giving us the space and time to scene so thoroughly. I know I complain about this and that in my life, and sometimes life does suck. But overall, I am quite, dare I say, blessed.
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Friday, October 09, 2009
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Current mood:  nervous
There is a meme going around called "honest blogger," and I've been tagged. I'm supposed to post 10 honest facts about myself. You know, I usually enjoy and participate in these things, but I think I'm going to pass this time, no offense to any taggers.
Why? One, because I've done this before, twice, so I'm out of factoids to post. And two, because I've already honestly revealed so much of myself on this blog over the years. You all know the horror stories of my family, my eating disorders, depression, medication, fears, angers, flaws. You know I have issues upon issues. You've seen me on my best days and on my worst. What's left, really? OK, I suppose I could post my real last name, but that would be stupid. Besides, several of you know that already anyway.
So, respectfully, I am declining on this one. Also, I hate tagging other people. I know it's part of the game, but I feel like I'm being a pain in the ass when I do that.
Today is October 9 -- John Lennon would have been 69 years old today. Sixty-nine???? Jeeezus. He is forever frozen in my mind as the cheeky 24-year-old who burst onto the music scene when he and his bandmates came to America in 1964. Where did the time go? What boggles my mind is that today, the Beatles are still as hot as they ever were. They just remastered all their CDs, there is Rock Band, there is the Love show in Las Vegas...they're everpresent and eternal. But I still remember being a small child and hearing them on the radio for the first time.
Happy birthday, John. Wish you'd been able to stick around a while longer. And happy birthday to his son Sean, also born on October 9. He's 34 today.
I have been all over the place lately, emotionally. Some of it, in fact most of it is probably hormonal. Last night I made the mistake of reading a list online of the 35 symptoms of perimenopause/menopause. It was enough to make me want to go back to bed... for the rest of my life! OK, I don't have most of them. But depression, mood swings, crying jags, crashing fatigue? Check, check, check, and check. So I probably shouldn't take any stinking thinking that accompanies these moods seriously. But at certain moments, they get the better of me. Like yesterday, when I had lunch with my stepmother and my father's friend. Sitting there with them, listening to all their incredible stories of being involved in the performing arts, I suddenly felt like I had nothing to contribute to the conversation and I was the most boring person on the planet. Foolish, I know. Self-pitying. Self-defeating. But sometimes, in a weak moment, this crap sneaks in.
I'm over it today. But I still feel like I'm vulnerable, easily swayed, could go one way or another.
Which brings me to tomorrow night, when I will be scening with Craig. Granted, there has been a lot of teasing and playing and silliness in the last week or two. My dear, dear girlfriend, whom I have dubbed Bratzilla (and you know who you are, toots -- I know you're reading this!), has been writing to Craig and telling him I've been VERY bad and that I need to be punished severely. I spend too much time online, I'm up too late, I didn't get enough birthday spanking, blah blah blah. Oh, she'll get hers, never fear. But I digress. All kidding aside, Craig and I have pre-discussed our scene, and he asked me where I wanted to go with it, what I needed.
I don't need playful and fun and raucous -- I did plenty of that at SL. What I need, even though it terrifies me, is to let go and let him control the scene, make it his as well as mine, take me where he sees fit. He knows my issues. He's borne witness to my moods, my insecurities, my foolishness. He is a friend as well as a top, and he accepts my foibles. But tomorrow night, he is going to punish me for them. Because I've asked him to. Because I trust him.
He's told me he's going to be severe and unyielding, and that I should be prepared for that. That it will be for the good of the scene, for ME.
Can you say "butterflies"? Even though I know in my heart of hearts that I am as safe as safe can be, I will be challenged. I will be pushed. And I asked for it. Am I insane?? Maybe. But I know how I'll feel afterward. It's worth it.
So... onward to the weekend. And please, all of you hold a good thought that J does NOT get a migraine tomorrow! I admit it, it's one of my biggest fears. He's getting them so often lately, and of course, he won't go to a doctor. Another reason why I've been so stressed out and worried lately, but that's another tangent and I don't want to go there. Suffice it to say, I just want it to be tomorrow night around 9:30 already. I wish I could bypass all the hours until then.
Have a great weekend, y'all.
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Tuesday, October 06, 2009
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Current mood:  grumpy
OK, it's more of a grumble. But this issue is still annoying. Why do people think it's OK to send graphic spanking stories to me, when they don't know me? Isn't that along the same lines as sending dick pics? Mind you, I enjoy a good spanking story as much as the next kinkette. And I have had friends write wonderful, hot stories for me. But that's just it -- they're friends. Not strangers. They know details about me and can incorporate them into a personalized story. They're not generic spank-and-fuck stories with my name placed where it says [insert name here]. The other day on SpankFinder, I got a message from a man, saying that my three pictures there didn't all look like the same person, and were any of them really me? Excuse me? Why the hell would I post pictures that aren't me? So I wrote back, " All of them are really me." On the basis of this brief exchange, he then decided to send me a long, graphic story he'd written about him spanking me, including savory details like him sticking his fingers and his tongue up my butt. I don't know this man's name, I don't know what he looks like, I know nothing... and yet I'm receiving cyberporn from him. I hit delete and didn't reply. Next day he writes again, saying he sent me a story, and did I receive it? Arrggh. I wrote back, "Please stop bothering me. I didn't ask for your story and I didn't appreciate it. Nor did I appreciate your implying that my pictures aren't of me." Figured that would be the end of it, but then I get this: "Geeeeez, I meant no offense. You're on a kink site, what did you expect? And I was just checking about your pictures. Get off your high horse." Oh, go blow yourself. What, because I post on a spanking site, it's OK to send me unsolicited graphic crap? This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. Whatever happened to asking first? To saying you have a story I might like, but it's a bit graphic, would I want to see it? Chances are, I will say no. Also recently, another man contacted me and we exchanged a couple of emails. We have some mutual friends and he seemed pleasant. Then yesterday, he sends me an email with a story, saying others have enjoyed this and he thinks I will too. He thinks this based on what, exactly? But whatever. The story was a depiction of a young girl being forced, rather sadistically by two men, to submit to a lye soap enema. Yes, some will find that very hot. I, however, was thoroughly skeeved by it. But I was nice. I wrote back to him and said, "Ummmm.... well, I'm sure others have enjoyed this, but I'm not into enemas and while I love a little squirmy embarrassment, humiliation and degradation are not my cup of tea. Sorry." To his credit, he wrote back and sincerely apologized, and said that from now on, he will ask first before sending anyone a story along those lines. Good. But I still wish I could take a sponge and some Formula 409 to my mind. (shudder) Not every unsolicited story I receive is quite that extreme. But there is usually some sort of squick factor, even if it's simply the fact that the writing is incredibly bad. What does one say to those? I mean, why do people think that just because they've experienced something, they can write about it? Writing is a skill, like anything else. Writing "smack smack smack ow ow ow" for several paragraphs is not skillful. And my proofreader's heart breaks just a little when I read lines like, "Her efforts to break free were all in vein." Hey, there's an idea. Next time I receive one of those stories, I'll proofread it with Track Changes and send it back.  Yes, I'm a pill. Is it Saturday yet?
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Monday, October 05, 2009
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Current mood:  okay
Actually, his birthday isn't until tomorrow, but we always celebrate the weekend before, or the weekend after. Sometimes both.  He's been so sick lately and working so hard, so I wanted it to be a nice, fun weekend for him. Last night was a blast -- our friend R met us in West Hollywood, where we had a wonderful dinner (my treat) and then a Groundlings show (her treat). It was sketch comedy and improv, and we had some laughs, especially when they pulled R up on stage as a participant in one of their sketches. LOL! She was awesome -- of course, they didn't know it, but she's done some theater before, so they chose a real pro! We've had a bit of an issue at J's house -- unfortunately, the tremendous heat wave drove a bunch of ants indoors, and they have infested his kitchen. For the past couple of weekends, we've seen the little bastards scuttling around the kitchen counters and in the sink; they love water, apparently. Last weekend, we bought some ant traps and J put them out. Well... they backfired. Yeah, they killed some ants, but they also attracted a big swarm of new live ones! Ugh! So last night after we got home, around 10:45, we decided to watch TV and have dessert. R had given us a box of truffles, and I knew there was a brand-new, unopened bag of Trader Joe's chocolate-dipped macaroons in the cupboard, so I grabbed that and made for the couch with the goodies. I put them on the table, switched on the TV, then picked up the macaroon bag, looking at the TV screen. Then I felt something tickle my hand, and I looked down... and screamed. The bag was teeming with ants, swarming all over the outside of it. J heard me screech, came in and asked what was wrong. I thrust the bag at him and brushed madly at my hands. I'm not scared of ants, per se -- but I hate creepy crawly critters in general, and seeing them en masse like that in my hands freaked me out. No macaroons for us! He threw the whole bag in the sink to rinse off the ants, then pitched it in the trash. Oh well. The truffles were yummy. Since we were seated in a patio section in the restaurant, we had a table of smokers next to us. And the theater was frigidly cold. Unfortunately, that combination affected J's healing lungs and kicked his cough back into gear, and, annoyed with ants and coughing his brains out, he went to bed. Not the best end to the evening, but stuff happens. However, the good news is, he got a good night's sleep and was feeling fine this morning. So we went to breakfast (my treat again), and I gave him the presents I had for him. He seemed very happy with everything. Now, if he could just get rid of those ****ing ants! Stubborn little things. He might have to do some serious spraying, or call an exterminator. It's always something with a house, isn't it? Personally, I'm glad I don't have one! Speaking of birthdays, a shout-out to D, whose birthday is today! Hope it was a good one, sweetie.  Wish we could have had you with us for a birthday foursome at dinner and the show. Remember what a blast the four of us had at my 50th? Hope everyone had a great weekend! Back to reality this week, although I have another lunch with my stepmom and my dad's old friend to look forward to, and then finally, finally, another Lair date with C & C next weekend. Yay!!
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