Matt's Spanking Blog

Gawking times one million...

2011-11-13T20:02:00.000-08:00

Some party-goers complain about the gawking but I've never seen it this bad...

"Full" Movie Review - The Killer Inside Me

2010-08-08T13:33:00.000-07:00

Went to see “The Killer Inside Me” which is playing in very few theaters but no doubt will be widely available on DVD in mere moments… likely to be of interest to spankos and S&M’ers due to the brief but excellent depiction of spankings (belt and hand) in a sexual context, some breath play and dominant sex, though the violence and some other scenes may be a turn off or even a deal-breaker. I’ll try to tell you what goes on so you can decide. It’s not exactly loaded up with these scenes but the movie is plenty good enough to wait for the ones you want. Overall, though, being based on a novel from around 1970 it’s no surprise that the lead character is portrayed as not only a sadist but a violent sociopath, and at least one submissive is pretty much crazily submissive.

This is a good-sized film with Casey Affleck, Kate Hudson, and Jessica Alba, debuted at Sundance and caused some controversy - it depicts violence toward women in two or three ways, at least… with the title and the publicity I don’t think it’s a secret that some of the violence - basically extreme “domestic” or relationship violence - is, well, extreme, awful, terrible… with critics saying it was too much, too extended (partly gratuitous, they say, in the scene’s length) and some people critical of the film saying that it should not have been filmed at all. I have no stomach for violence toward women, real or filmed, and literally covered my eyes the few short times I had to, which is an option…

The film itself is good enough - cut out the scenes we’re interested in, and the violent ones, and it would be about average for a major motion picture - a film noir/ mystery set in West Texas in the late 50’s, I think, good plot, great actors, none of whom I felt were challenged by their roles. Basically I call these a “99-cent rental,” cable, or on-demand if it’s free.

I don’t consider anything in the first five minutes to be a plot spoiler - usually more than that is in the previews - and that’s probably the hottest scene in the movie… deputy sheriff Casey Affleck calls on hooker Jessica Alba. He is relentlessly polite and she is not, soon slapping at him… quickly gets carried away and he loses his temper. He grabs her, carries her to her bed, throws her down - face down - and climbs on top of her. Soon his belt is snaking through its loops and in his hand… her pants are down, he’s sitting on her legs, and he whips her with his belt… mostly on the right, a couple back-handed on the left… they show her (or someone’s) other-worldly bottom with serious marks wide on the right cheek.

He comes to his senses, stops, and starts apologizing but she stops him and starts kissing him… soon he is taking her, horizontally, from behind…

this is Jessica Alba, so she doesn’t show much (no nipples, not the cleft of her cheeks, I believe - I think she’s saving them ala Halle Berry in hopes of an Oscar which seems unlikely)… still, as a fantasy scene I’d say it’s everything you could hope for.

Very minor plot spoiler…

***

Somewhere in here a very brief flashback strongly implies that around age 10 he molested a five-year-old and his 12-year-old adopted brother took the blame for it…

Back to the movie - he’s got a girl but they’re in love, she wants to get out of town and has a plan to get some money, shaking down the son of a local rich man.

Also about this time is a scene - possibly when he shows up at her place an hour before the “victim”/ mark does - where he is on top of her again, belt around her neck… though she doesn’t seem to be choking or in any danger apart from the distinct possibility that she’ll climax to death…

This would be a good time to leave… you’ve seen what you came to see and if you’re alone, just walk out. I tend to doubt that you’d regret 1) doing so or 2) paying to see this much of the movie. If they release a 20-minute version, I’ll buy it.

Okay from here on out the plot spoilers get to be major so that I can tell you what’s coming up.

***

The deputy pulls on a pair of gloves and coldly punches the hooker in the face, repeatedly… when she is nearly dead she says “I love you” and he replies “I love you, too” before continuing until she’s dead.

He returns to his girlfriend, worn out - having just screwed the hooker six ways to Sunday, killed her, and investigated it afterward… she wants none of that, opens his pants, gets him in her mouth, and spits him out for “tasting of her.”

Here is a tip for anyone who needs it - if a guy proposes marriage as an apology for cheating, just walk away - unless, that is, you stick around to cut his balls off. Anyway…

Soon we see him spanking her while they make love, once again focusing on the outside of her right cheek… (from on top, to remind him of the hooker) - and pushing her face a lot, which I didn’t completely get…

Gets kinkier in a hurry - he opens a bible and finds black-and-white x-rated shots of his mother, who died when he was six, I think they said - smiling shots with definite marks… he remembers her wanting to teach him to box, take off his shirt and punch her…

Then mom, who looks enough like Kate Hudson (for the psychology) but isn’t - is shown in another flashback, lying on the bed, backside well striped, looking back at her very young son (not shown) saying “see what your daddy did to me? Do you want to do more? I like it when you hurt me,” or something like that…

This is all explained, which I’m not going to do, but… he tells his girlfriend he wants to elope, she comes over to his house with her suitcases, and he invites her into the kitchen - punches her in the face a couple of times, then in the stomach, and some more to kill her… stages it to look like an attempted rape… maybe she’s not dead, he kicks her brutally at least twice… the wide shot of her twisted body, clothes askew, urine draining from her - I personally could have done without…

A brief re-flashback of him as a kid attacking the little girl…

I think that’s about it - anything I’ve left out should not affect your decision much…

One Second Movie Review - "Whip It"

2010-06-23T21:35:00.000-07:00

Don't see it. Roller Derby girls - they mean girls, like, adolesent. Haven't been this disappointed since I found out that "bi-lingual" means she can speak two languages.

On the Bike Path

2010-06-18T18:39:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time... in the summertime...

my lovely lady has a bike path near her place - wide, paved, and about 20 miles long or something, they tell me, with overpasses and an underpass that looks pretty dang scary even at dusk, let alone dark - but we headed out on foot at dusk, made it through the underpass - I wasn't worried till we got in it, seems designed for bad things to happen - out the other side, walking along as it got pretty dark pretty fast. At some point we saw a truck up the bank with the doors open, so I figured someone was partying, but we never saw or heard anybody at all, and got to an area where we could see ballpark lights - still, pretty dark.

On the left was a rail fence then a steep concrete bank down twenty feet or more to the river, which was currently dry... she was wearing a skirt, no panties, and after a few little spankings - she loves to be spanked outdoors - she climbed up on the fence. I was wearing short work boots and these soft brown pants like fancy jeans - cowboy jeans, tight and straight - and a smooth brown leather belt probably two inches wide, which I took off and strapped her with. My rule is that if I have to take off my belt, she goes down on me, so when she got off the fence she knelt down and took me in her mouth awhile, but didn't bring me off so I could take her later.

She likes to feel the belt in my hand so I let it dangle down across her back while she sucked me. When I'd had about all I could take I put her back up on the fence and gave her a bit more, hard.

We had been done maybe two minutes when the whole place is completely lit up... a police cruiser is rolling down the bike path with headlights and a searchlight, keeping us safe (though I'm pretty sure he didn't go under the scary-looking underpass). By then I had my belt back on...

I had had my back to him and her face was in my crotch, so I'm not sure how much notice we would have gotten - and even if I'd gotten my fly closed I'd be standing there with my belt in my hand... every jurisdiction is different and every cop has a perspective, but nothing good could have come of it...

but it did all work out...

Advice you can use...

2010-02-09T21:20:00.000-08:00

MSN would like to give you some advice on Valentine's Day shopping...

they prefaced their suggestions with this picture:

how perfect - give a guy a nice smooth long narrow leather belt... what she wants is a collar - silver or white gold chain preferred... (don't forget the "Return to Tiffany's" on the dog tag...)

Oh, Britney...

2010-01-24T13:25:00.001-08:00

This is just evil, I know it... but the only way to get a catchy song out of your head is to pass it on to someone else... and it's not just catchy enough as it is... and it's not bad enough that it's played every fifteen minutes...

if you or your kids listen to pop radio, you ought to hear this Britney Spears song before too long - within an hour, max. It's official title, I believe, is "Three," but you'd know it as "(One, Two,) Three." For those of you who might otherwise miss out on this cultural achievement, I hope this link will get you an idea:

http://www.britney.com/fr/videos

It's vapid, of course, but pay no attention to the words - at least, not those words. If you want it really stuck in your head, try these:

One, two, three,
you should be over my knee.
Then we'll see
how good you can be...

Quick as one, two, three
you'll be saying sor-ry!
Betting all on mercy,
Pretty soon we'll start... Uh! Countin'....

One, two...
One, one, one, one, two, three...
Countin' one, two...
Countin' one, one, two, three...

If it takes all night
That'll be okay.
We'll set you right
What did you say?

Elbows on the floor
Can't run away
Nice 'n' red 'n' sore
What did you say?

Are you list'nin'?
Your bottom could be in for a blist'rin'...
Are you list'nin'?
Or do I start counting?

one, two, three,
you don't listen to me...
but we'll see
when you're over my knee

Countin' one, two, three
now you say you're sor-ry!
Betting all on mercy,
Pretty soon we'll start... Uh! Countin'....

Do we need the belt?
To me it's all the same
It's the hand you dealt
Still like your game?

Playful little scheme
Earns you just the same
Hot in the extreme
Still like your game?

Are you list'nin'?
Your bottom could be in for a blist'rin'...
Are you list'nin'?
Or do I start counting?

One, two, three,
you should be over my knee.
Then we'll see
how good you can be...

Countin' one, two, three
now you say you're sor-ry!
Betting all on mercy,
Pretty soon we'll start... Uh! Countin'....

Don't you act all innocent,
"Just for fun and nothing meant."
If not just one trip over my knee,
We can still try two or three (two or three...).
two or three (two or three...),

Or three (Or three... or three...),
Or four , maybe more...

One, two, three,
you should be over my knee.
Then we'll see
how good you can be...

Countin' one, two, three
now you say you're sor-ry!
Betting all on mercy,
Pretty soon we'll start... Uh! Countin'....

Oh - and if you want to get it out of your head - pass it on. (along with jokes about how high Britney can count, and the suggestion that she should have been on Sesame Street instead of The Mickey Mouse Club).

Hallowe'en Sale

2009-11-05T18:56:00.001-08:00

Went to the "party" store, they had Halloween stuff at 40% off - I got a rat, an arm, leg, and tongue. The rat and the tongue were motorized. But they charged me full price for the tongue, they said it wasn't a Halloween product.

The End of DST

2009-11-01T20:46:00.001-08:00

Okay, I've been saving daylight for six months and I don't even have enough to make it through half a day... sort of like my retirement account...

A (Very) Short Story

2009-10-14T12:30:00.000-07:00

In case you didn't notice, I put a new very short story on my story site:

http://mattanglenspankingstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/short-story-amanda.html

I wrote it for the short story contest for the usenet news group soc.sexuality.spanking (soc is for sociology or social or something - following the more judgmental but perfect ASS - alt.sexuality.spanking or some such thing).

Nine years of short story contest archives are here:

http://socsexualityspanking.org/ssc/

At 2-300 entries a year that ought to be over 2,000 stories to keep you busy - with judges' favorites identified...

my personal favorite that I've found so far is the 2002 entry by Bird:

http://socsexualityspanking.org/ssc/2002/b028.htm

Back In the Backseat

2009-07-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

well, we're at her place - as are her kids, just a fact of life... but I'm not real comfortable playing, not even quietly. Though, how much of a problem can this present? After all, we all went to high school...

The options for playing in the car are limitless, and I've added a few ideas since graduation, but in this case it's pretty easy - the garage will give us complete sound privacy and her minivan will give us a place to sit and plenty of room.

Despite it being a beautiful summer night, the garage turns out to be approximately the temperature of an automotive engine cooling off and inside the van is no better if not worse. We've had a (very) little wine so we don't want to be driving too far... so we just pull it out and park, idling, at the curb. After waiting for the temperature to drop to a very comfortable level we pull back into the garage, bring the door down, and climb in back without opening the doors to the hot interior air. Hmmm, sort of like Jack and Rose (or Jack! and Rose! Jack! Rose! Jack! Rose!) in Titanic, when they sneak into the car hold...

Though Rose was not over Jack's knee in the far-back bench seat of a mini-van... and she didn't have her head buried in the corner of the seat - nor did she notice for the first time a pull-tab in said corner, nor pull it and have the seatback spring forward and smack her on the head - not the kind of smacking we were looking for.

I've got my hand and my belt, which is always plenty, isn't it? And I can spank hard when I need to... just have to do so at the right time, right? So things are going well, despite the rising heat, which was not all due to us... and she must be enjoying it, she's relaxing with her eyes closed despite being spanked pretty firmly, or being strapped with the belt nicely doubled or even with the wicked single end...

and it's not continuous, I pause now and then, making it last... during one such pauses we do notice that the heat is getting back up there, but all things considered it's a small price to pay, you have to expect some inconveniences.

"And then there's that," I mention as the light on the garage door opener times out, leaving us in a darkness deeper than Kafka's later works. I mean, it is black. She's got her head sort of buried and her eyes closed so she has no idea what I'm talking about. And hey, it's not like I can't find my target, I start back up. At some point she does look up, exclaiming how dark it is. By this time my eyes have been adjusting for several minutes and I can see - absolutely nothing. If I dropped my pants I would not be able to find them, it is still that dark.

And, of course, later we open the side door to get out, turning the overhead interior lights on... completely blinding me with a shock like an interrogation...

but it was a nice cool night and a pleasant trip back into the house...

A Story - The Picnic Table

2009-07-12T15:29:00.001-07:00

Fiction? or prediction?

We'd been walking quite awhile without seeing another soul when we finally reached the picnic area, whose existence, frankly, I had begun to question. We started out side-by-side and I'd let her lead a bit going uphill, bearing up under taunts of "come on, old man" for the pleasure and inspiration of her lovely curves.

After not very long I wasn't the only one who was breathing hard and we'd had plenty of ups and downs since then. She'd also grown hesitant of preceding me, and gave the jibes a rest since I was lugging the pack and might start making her carry it. Or maybe it was my threat of finding a switch, or pointing out a blackberry vine with thorns that belonged in a vampire novel, my wide leather belt so inappropriate for summer hiking, or the narrow, thick belt she herself wore which was in no way needed to keep the waist of her shorts from slipping down over the delectable flare of her hips.

"Finally," I sighed, slinging the pack onto the table and digging into it.

"Finally? Why finally?" she asked after taking on half a canteen of water. "Do we have anything to eat in there?"

"Eat? Did we come here to eat?" I asked in return, producing a long coil of rope and a small flag on a long staff of rattan. Two fuzzy jackets were supposedly in case we didn't get back before dark, or possibly autumn.

The picnic table was pretty standard. One jacket went from table edge onto the seat on the right side, padding her knees; the rope went around them, four strands to spread out the strain, dropping down between, under the seat-board and up around her ankles just above her short and very cute little hiking boots. Her shorts were unfastened, enough for now, then the rope went under the seat again, across to the left seat and under it, and back up on the far side for her wrists, the second jacket going under her chin and outstretched arms.

I'm not good at knots but I've gone to a lot of trouble to learn the trucker's hitch, which tightens the load down when you pull on it. I knew it was secure when she said that if I didn't stop tickling her she'd wet herself, twice in warning and once in panic, despite my own warning that such an "accident" would be highly spankable. Working her shorts and panties down was not as trivial as I had predicted but I wasn't feeling a lot of time pressure except from my desire to get my hands on her bottom - it took even longer to work up from squeezing, rubbing and love smacks, which she considers mere teasing, to something with a little more heft to it. We were in a pretty good rhythm for awhile before it was time for the cane.

Wrapping the flag around the staff even padded my end a bit. She likes a lot of little light strokes but needs the hard ones too so I went with the latter. The jackets came in handy because she was managing to move her elbows and hips an inch or two. I slowed down until I didn't have to stop.

I tend to let the cane tip droop a bit on the far side, leaving her with a dark triangle high on her left thigh. The one hard stroke straight across that low left a cane kiss, two dark lines, slightly higher in the center, divided by a thin still-white line. From her tan line I knew it'd be just above the edge of her shorts on the hike back but I'd know it was there. A few minutes of stroking and a few more minutes after that and she'd be ready for one of the belts.

A Little Light Reading

2009-07-08T19:38:00.000-07:00

so first of all you have to understand that I have a very recognizable car... two, really. Not just likely to be mine but totally definitely mine... and my office is within walking distance of the local shopping center, which also has the movie theater and is the big local hang-out... in other words, many people I know or work with could quite easily see my car when it's parked a few spaces back from the grocery store - see it and know that it's mine.

That's what worried me, a bit, when we came out of the movie and as I walked up to my car I saw a book in the back seat - not just any book but "Bondage for Sex." Among books to have in the back seat this might be about the least discreet choice - I've got "Shibari" - Japanese rope bondage with a lovely picture of a woman's forearms beautifully wrapped - but if you don't immediately know what Shibari is, you wouldn't notice. However, this wasn't the Shibari book - it's the book that has large, bright, block letters (over a dim background of sexy body parts) proclaiming Bondage! what kind, of bondage (!), you ask? well of course it's Bondage For Sex! - as if there were other kinds... maybe "Of Human Bondage" or some type of social justice novels - but no, not this one, this one is human bondage for SEX!

It seems someone... who shall remain nameless but not unspanked - was reading said book on the trip back from Orange County... and rather than putting it back into the well-filled toy bag, decided to leave it face-up on the back seat...

The Stuff of Legend

2009-07-04T23:13:00.000-07:00

For this post it's only fair that I identify the person, at least somewhat - or at least to those who know her. I'll identify her as "my lovely date at the last Shadow Lane party" which ought to be plenty specific enough for anyone who needs to know...

we live three time zones apart so by the time my cell phone goes to "nights and weekends" it's the middle of the night there, but that's pretty much what we worked out... so some of the things she says are pretty sleepy. In fact, she was commenting on this very fact, after heading herself for trouble - you know how everything sounds good when you're far away and safe and you're wishing you could be spanked right then, and a lot, maybe even hard, maybe even a lot hard - so she's saying that brats shouldn't talk to tops when they're sleepy or she might end up asking for something like 400 with the tawse... the tawse being something she particularly hates for some reason...

I hear "400 with the tawse" - a week or so before we get together in Vegas - and I think it's a great idea. In fact, I'm reasonably awake and the numbers click through my mind - 400, that's eleven sets of three dozen - three a day plus one on Thursday night and one on Monday morning. Then we'll only need four more strokes to make it to 400...

Of course the problem with brats - or some of the problems, anyway - is that they talk big and then want to chicken out - and they seem to think they get some say in the matter... so she immediately begins backtracking and complaining and worrying - she said she didn't want it, she can't take that many, it'll interfere with our other play and her party play... silly stuff like that. Meanwhile I keep assuring her that this is how legends are born... "and, at the March Shadow Lane party, on top of everything else, I got 400 with the tawse..."

I guess she did have some cause for concern... she was getting some pretty heavy paddling right off the bat, solid and often... and that tawse can really sting - once warmed up by the paddle I didn't need to use it lightly... three dozen is a good number for a quick spanking, too many to ignore, definitely. I tried to time it so it wouldn't throw her out of any reverie she may have drifted into from other play.

Seems she also got several sessions with the canes, both nice and evil... and at one point hid the paddle to save her bottom for a while - turned into quite awhile... but we pressed on. I think we got all three sessions in on Friday, first thing Saturday and afternoon. With a big party Saturday night and getting to bed after four we were one set behind. Sunday morning we were asleep but easily fit two into the afternoon, bringing us within three of finishing. Of the extra four, three had already been collected.

With her leaving early in the morning our play session Sunday night was long with many intense scenes, so I didn't double up then, knowing how easily we could get in one extra set before heading to the airport at dark-thirty. We managed to wake up - and get up - early enough Monday morning for our farewell play and I laid on two good sets of three dozen apiece - and one more stroke filled our four hundred.

Proving once again that with a little planning and dedication you can give a brat what she asks for...

2009-07-04T17:02:00.000-07:00

I like having a table of contents because there're some things I have trouble getting used to:

1) This backwards-listings of what I post, so if there's a Part II it comes before Part I; and

2) The disappearance of posts beyond the first ten, which might be plenty, but it's just the ten most recent, not the ten best.

So here is an index of the posts I have on here. Because this isn't really a web-log/ diary, it's just a heap of things I've written (a heap is when the first one read is the last one entered, a stack is when the first one read is the first one entered – as if you cared).

The Best

At least I think so...

A Young Lady Gets Her Bottom Spanked - An Interactive Spanking Story

I've had this out there for a long time but if you've never seen it, it's a cute Mad-Lib type story that will get naughty young ladies their very own spanking! Remember to turn off your pop-up blocker to see the finished story!

Our Acquiescent Pixie posted July 2006

Cat and I went to Las Vegas and kidnapped this lovely young lady at the airport – really. This is hot, if I do say so myself.

What the Spanked Woman Needs July 2006

A pompous-sounding essay but nonetheless well-received by those it applies to.

A particular type of spanked, or needing-a-spank, woman is the one who's always right. No, not the ones who think they're always right, the ones who actually are. She's analytical and critical and usually knows what's the best thing to do - which turns out to be extremely confining, doesn't it?

Carry On! - 10/11/2006

A silly but amusing story of trying to board a plane these days...

My Stories

A link to my blog full of stories - fiction, fictionalized, true, and...

Links

I'm too lazy to figure out how to add links on the side so if you want them you have to look here...

Experiences

Most of the advice stuff is based on experience, of course, but deal with it, 'k?

As Party time Approaches... posted July 2006

Advice some people have found useful for past ShadowLane parties. Based on having been to over ten of them...

Paddling the Cowgirl - 12/26/2008

this young lady can have it any way she wants...

Florida Moonshine's Beach Party, June, 2008

Shadow Lane Party Report - August 2006 party

The party was too long for one report – here are the best and happiest moments from Thursday noon until Friday evening. I hope to someday compile the rest.

Shadow Lane Party Report, April 2005

Shadow Lane Party Report, April 2004

Use the link above - it's at the end. Don't know why.

Advice and Essays

Hopefully some of these have some hot parts as well... hey if something's hot let me know and I'll move it up the list.

Power and Glory - 4/12/2009

Easter thoughts on what "true" power is...

TPE, Vanilla Style - 4/13/2008

Total Power Exchange isn't limited to scene play

Blame - 3/7/2008

With experience my perspective keeps changing...

Making the Switch - Some Techniques of Leadership - 3/2/2007

Part I and so far the only of a many-faceted essay on how to be on top...

Watching a Punishment - 2/19/2007

Ever feel conflicted about what turns you on?

The Young and Responsible - 11/20/2006

Did our parents and teachers expect too much of us?

Saying "No" - 10/25/2006

Despite all my past advice, I find saying "no" in practice to be much harder than in theory

Perspective on Power - 9/30/2006

Why am I always the bad guy?

Discipline and Punishment Sept 2006

How I've applied discipline at times in the past.

One Support System I've Tried Sept 2006

A discipline system I set up for a woman who wanted a little guidance. It gives her a little leeway and a certain amount of recreational spanking but if she goes too far, it comes down hard.

I Met This Guy On Line... July 2006

Some of my thoughts on women dating through the scene personals

More Scene Stuff

Black Leather In Summer - 6/20/2009

Real advances in solar energy.

Wood and Leather - 12/24/2007

Ah, my favorite subject - soft women and hard men.

Sensitivity Paddlings - 2/1/2009

An absolute requirement for insatiable brats and most every other bottom.

It's How Much You Keep - 2/15/2009

An interesting ethical dilemma when you're given the choice and your friend isn't.

A Little Rope, a Glass of Wine, and Thou... 1/30/2008

A single introductory post on beautiful bondage...

Uncanny Caning - August 2006

One way I use a cane – for pleasure.

Taking the Noise Out of Spanking - July 2006

My many recommendations based on our experience with quieter spankings.

Rose Bowl Bet - 3/2/2007

Check out Iris watching the Rose Bowl with her post-game fate in the hands of Fireman Chris.

An Ideal Fourteen Inches - 10/19/2006

Getting it together, keeping it in one place.

Miscellaneous

Driving to Vegas - 3/1/2009

How many floggers do you need? It depends on if you're using a suitcase or a trunk!

Jennifer Brooks Retires - 2/21/2009

To a very classy lady, thanks for everything...

Christmas Visit - 12/30/2008

Ah, kids in the house and the age of electronics...

A Little Too Far - 12/26/2008

you knew the day was coming...

Sleeping on Planes - 12/21/2008

Would a leather blindfold really help?

Bad Santa - 12/6/2008

Lauren Graham is certainly on the naughty list in this excellent but not-for-kids dark comedy...

Kids Grow Up So Fast! - 12/8/2007

Check out this too-cute holiday video clip

Holiday Spirit - 12/2/2007

Even the mall wants you to have a pink bottom...

Old-Fashioned Family Values - 2/20/2007

George W gets it abroad...

Cold Turkey - 11/27/2006

Holidays mean kids - and mom...

Thank You and Goodnight - 11/5/2006

The Stardust says goodbye...

Mass De-Lurk Day - 11/3/2006

Calling all lurkers! Come out, come out, wherever you are...

Our Latest Object d' Art August 2006

An interesting and innocent little find...

Yet Another Hairbrush July 2006

A recent toy acquisition. Yes, another one.

Goldie's Quest for Bears

Goldilocks gathers teddy bears for a great cause. July 2006

Links

2009-07-04T16:52:00.000-07:00

as everyone can tell, I'm not much of one for links... but here are a few not to be missed.

Blogs -
·
· The Secret Life of Library Girl
·
· Erica Scott
·
· Her Secret Corner

Where Sweet Meets Kink…

·
· The Punishment Book
·
· El Tercer Ojo (Mija's blog)
·
· Pablo & Mija's Treehouse
·
· Iris - Through Iris Eyes
·
· Life in Motion (Sparkle's Blog)
·
· Natty's Spanking Blog
·
· Chris' Firehouse

The kinky (and occasionally non-kinky) thoughts of a happily married spanko fireman.

·
· AngelBrat's Blog

Random thoughts from the mind of me - a happily married, happily spanked, DD wife.
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· Tulsa Moda

(an interesting young lady not into spanking but WAY into a lot of things a long way past it - good luck, girl...)

Links
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· Shadow Lane
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· Chelsea Pfeiffer Entertainment - Spanking Videos, pictures, and more
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· Jennifer Brooks has retired... L
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· The London Tanners - beautiful, hand-crafted leather implements
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· Twisted Monk

more to come, no doubt, as I add the many, many friends I've forgotten...

Black Leather in Summer

2009-06-20T14:46:00.000-07:00

Once you get away from the beach around here the air dries out and the gets every bit as fierce as in Phoenix, not surprisingly, so plenty of people have windshield-sunshades to use while parked to keep the interior of the car from overheating, especially if they have black leather seats and matching interior like I do.

These shades are available at auto parts and discount stores and wherever really cheap stuff is sold, so maybe it should be less surprising than I found it - that the shade I bought, eventually, disintegrated, apparently from the heat - either that or the sun. Not right away, of course, and the part that showed its limited age the quickest was the black border which mostly turned into black soot-like dust to cover the dashboard and blow in my face when I put the fan on.

In other words, I no longer have a sun shade - though I still have the black leather seats, which heat up to an extent that they ought to be considered for an alternative energy source. Due to the sunshade dust, they may not be a "clean" alternative, and they may not be an entirely "safe" alternative - I'd put the temperature slightly north of the 140 degrees (60 degrees C) I think of as a practical limit, though this heat dissipates pretty quickly...

All in all causing me to long for a well, well-spanked bottom in a micro-skirt and thong panties...

Power and Glory

2009-04-12T00:45:00.000-07:00

In one of my favorite lines in recorded music, Andrew Lloyd Webber in Jesus Christ Superstar paraphrases this Palm Sunday conversation, with Simon (Peter) telling Jesus that he has the crowd in the palm of his hand, and advises "throw in a touch of hate for Rome" and "we will have the power and the glory, forever and ever and ever." To which Jesus replies (appropriately, since Simon seems only to provide the human perspective for Jesus to correct) "Not you, Simon, nor the fifty thousand, nor the Jews, nor the Twelve, nor Jerusalem itself / have any idea what Power is / have any idea what Glory is - / have any idea at all; / have any idea at all."

After being around tops both new and old, as well as Doms and Dommes who scream and slash - not just guys who tell you how dominant they are, when not very much of that has you starting to suspect the opposite... and not even just scene people, but everyone who wants to dictate your behavior and thinks that makes them powerful - I wonder if "the fifty thousand" needs about two thousand years of updating.

In her autobiography (volume one) Dances With Werewolves, Niki Flynn talks about a brief stint at a dungeon where she's pressed into service as a Domme and tops this guy who, for reasons she explains, totally gets off on being given a wedgie (ohhhh-kay...). And though I don't have the book in front of me, she says something like "he had just handed me the keys to his sexuality."

Now that's power... being trusted with the intimate knowledge and have the understanding of someone to have them panting with a few well-chosen words or a few well-placed nibbles... so you can have your "call me Sir" and "you're two minutes late" and fifty play partners in fifty days...

Am I the snake inside your garden
The sugar in your tea
The knock upon your back door
The twist that turns your key?

The twist that turns your key - that's enough for me...

Now admittedly it may not the Power and the Glory, Forever and Ever...

(and the lyrics are by Melissa Etheridge)

Driving to Vegas

2009-03-01T20:38:00.001-08:00

so nice to not have to choose - throw them all in the trunk...

An Advertisement

2009-02-21T17:47:00.000-08:00

I don't usually run ads... though I should probably post more announcements, and will. In any case, Jennifer Brooks is going out of business and is selling all her stuff at clearance prices (videos $10, DVD's $17.50, and magazines $5)... it's M/F, F/F, and F/M and located at:

www.hotspankings.com

What can I say about this lovely lady, certainly one of the most beautiful in the scene - but more importantly one of the most caring people I know. I can't count the times I've seen a post asking for help on one of the endless groups we all visit from time to time that Jennifer had answered with detailed consideration... proud of her untamed ways (she drives with a certain sense of abandon) but always the first to remember someone's feelings.

I should write much, much more about her but I'm not very reliable so I'll add this, sorry if you've already read it:

"I'm standing on the corner in the broiling sun of a Palm Springs summer afternoon when this beautiful blonde pulls up – believe it or not this is not something I'm accustomed to – and tells me to get in. So I do and she's glad because she's not quite sure where we're going. I'm a little surprised because we're about 120 feet from the Riviera registration desk. Her vehicle crosses the intersection in one kangaroo hop, miraculously lands on all fours like a cat and there we are. This is the woman I spanked the heck out of two weeks ago for covering 95 miles in 60 minutes and I knew even then that it was doing zero good. I invited her up so I could try again but I'm expecting people like, right now, and she's got to check in, find her way around, etc. etc."

forget that they're cheap right now, go buy some movies anyway - it's getting to be your last chance.

It's How Much You Keep...

2009-02-15T19:27:00.000-08:00

I could be feeling a little better - I have a 10k today. Six months ago it was a 401(k) but with the market doing like it has...

Last weekend was a great one, though, with yet another trip to Florida - Saturday I had the most lovely experience of flogging two very attractive women, nude except for cuffs, one blindfolded, one hooded. I wondered, then asked, how it felt to be able to hear the strokes falling but only feeling them half the time. My floggers are so very pleasant, always so appreciated - but what if they weren't, and what if it was delivered, rather than two strokes for you and two strokes for her, as a punishment for her, which you hear but can't see, and then one for you?

Not all my toys, of course, are so sensual - as I demonstrated with one that got the same reaction from both ladies - "ow - OW - OW! - Oh Shit!" Which led to more speculation...

The two of you have done something and are going to be punished - harshly, unfortunately, though warmed up if it'll help any... six sets of two dozen difficult strokes per set. Your cohort get the first set, just in case she has any pretenses about bearing up well under the punishment. After that, she gets to decide who gets each additional set, one at a time. How many would she give to you, how many does she keep for herself? If she asks for them for herself, I'll try to make her regret it... if she won't ask for either of you, a few uncounted strokes until she makes her decision, that should speed things along...

Or perhaps you are the one I make do the choosing...

Sensitivity Paddlings

2009-02-01T13:26:00.000-08:00

I really don't care for the let-me-tell-you-how-it's-done narrative, but bear with me for a moment or two till I can get to the fun stuff... (or, "butt bare with me," in spanko-speak):

in reference to the lovely Cowgirl, of a just-prior post, for whom we all are very happy and who was overheard using unsightly language by her new beau... (how can language be "unsightly?" if you're not watching it!) Possibly this was because she didn't fear the consequences, a terrible but I think largely understandable and unfortunately common state. For those child-free weekends and other spank-heavy intervals, sensitivity paddlings seem to improve this situation - plus are a lot of fun.

What we want here is not for our young lady to brat around, nor repeatedly ask for yet another spanking, nor be completely unrestrained in her behavior just because she wants to take advantage of this opportunity to be spanked well and often. I think it's much more fun if her own reaction to careless misbehavior is "ut oh..." Not to say that I want her all tense, nervous, and ever vigilant, carefully avoiding any slight misstep - this should be a time for relaxing - the point is not for her to studiously avoid minor misbehavior, only to forsake intentional brattiness and to react with that tummy-tightening trepidation to any realized-too-late actions. Two dozen swats once an hour seems to fit the bill.

This heightened-awareness state could happen if she was already over-spanked, but with a whole weekend - or even a long evening - to play with we certainly don't want to get there too soon; and with a dedicated spankee, as we all know, it can be difficult or impossible to get there at all, at least for any sustained length of time. Seems like "no no no stop" is usually followed by "okay, ready..." We need her confident that plenty of spankings remain, preferably pleasurable or at most minorly challenging ones - or, even if she's due for some heavy discipline, that she'll be kept plenty busy in the meantime.

I have this heavy paddle, frat-shaped but shorter, quite thick but thankfully made of pine or something so it's less fierce than most hardwoods. Its sting is further mitigated by a very thin suede layer on one side - maybe less than an eighth of an inch thick but enough to make all the difference. Twenty-four swats is neither too much to take nor too little to have any effect, and can be barely disruptive. We've used this in a very brief stop at a rest area in the middle of a two-hour drive and it was completely convenient, and it can be applied just before leaving the house without disrupting any timetables.

This isn't exactly preventative - if she needs preventative spankings, say before joining friends, visiting family, or whatever, those would need to be separate; nor is it maintenance, exactly, which I consider to be considerably longer and far less frequent, like maybe twice a week; and it's definitely not punitive - it's not substantial enough to address anything specific and hopefully no one needs to be punished every hour. Its purpose is entirely sensitivity and assurance - sensitivity so that other spankings can be felt better, and assurance that even without misbehavior, encouragement, or requests, opportunities won't be wasted.

Starting off it may take a little more to establish any sensitivity at all, and it would be silly to wait half the night for it to start being effective just so that a foolish consistency can be followed, so the first time around I might go through it twice. In fact, on a cold bottom it's nicest to start out slowly, so the first two dozen are probably light, and then a second two dozen for effect, and then maybe this is repeated. Certainly at two dozen swats if it's doubled is not a big deal. Even the second set - and the fourth, in this case - the firm ones - are pretty enjoyable if you're not already sore (and why would you be?) - solid but not stinging, warm, not hot... also, an extra set at the first half-hour will speed up the process, too.

My preference is to give eighteen with the suede side then six with the bare-wood side, which is, admittedly, painful (though there's not many of them); keeping them all low, with the lower edge of the paddle just at the lowest edge of the bottom, every swat, same spot, all weekend or week. If you tend to over-hit (land more on the far side) you can balance it out immediately with a Jokari paddle or wait until next time and use the diaper position, so that the far cheek becomes the left rather than right. I'm not ambidextrous enough to use a heavy paddle well from the left, nor strong enough to do it well back-handed. It's not that much of a problem, since the paddle is very stiff and therefore doesn't over-hit as much as thinner or perforated paddles.

For these quick little swat sets, simply bent over can be best - well over, to get low, easily - even if an over-the-knee spanking is about to follow. Lately I've also been favoring a punishment position - kneeling nude on the bed, elbows down and then drawn in to bring the chin to the hands, heels together, knees apart - though this is a bit elaborate if you're just keeping to the schedule. Maybe without the nudity, if you're in a skirt/ dress/ nightgown...

Some interesting things come out of this schedule... like, obviously, a paddling very first thing in the morning (doesn't have to be hard), before any other spankings... and the fact that it's hard to leave the house or do much of anything besides watch a TV show for less than an hour, so that every time you return to the house, a paddling - often two or three - is already overdue, so her bottom is bare immediately, and you get rid of that lag between getting home and getting back into the spanking routine. Another situation is that, since a paddle this size gives you a pretty good range of heaviness, once she's well-warmed up you can really power on some deeply-felt swats if you feel that's needed and, as I said earlier, add a second set, since they're short...

Also, the schedule is very hard to keep up with - once an hour is pretty aggressive - so a paddling is almost always due and can precede nearly anything - or I should say, nearly everything. Time for a caning? Should probably have some good heavy swats first. Need a strapping? Let's make sure you feel it low. Smart-mouthed remark? We'll just catch up with the paddle before you go over my knee...

I've considered - but haven't tried - using a kitchen timer... for a strict once-an-hour I guess we'd reset it for another hour, then paddle, so we don't get "schedule creep..." My timer has a warning beep (how appropriate) at ten minutes till and five minutes till, so we wouldn't be taken by surprise - but I don't think that would be very relaxing, to say the least.

Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against those grit-your-teeth, thigh-shaking paddlings - but a steady dose of something much more tolerable can be a useful addition as well.

Christmas Visit

2008-12-30T22:21:00.000-08:00

The kids are visiting for the school holidays again...

bad is when your adolescent son finds pictures on your computer of naked women, strapped to a hotel bench, bright red bottoms and obvious marks along with wide, wide smiles and glassy eyes...

really bad is when he finds them on your camera...

(okay this has not yet happened, just what I have nightmares about...)
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Paddling The Cowgirl

2008-12-26T11:54:00.000-08:00

just a short scene about a paddling... a Halloween party, and this woman isn't just dressed as a cowgirl, she really is one, for a living, real spurs and all and if I ever objected to cowboy (cowgirl) boots with a skirt I won't any more - as long as it's a really, really short skirt.

This was one of these friend-of-a-friend things, so there was no real dynamic, just sort of "let's play" and I couldn't say for sure who said that... but we end up in a spare room, along with a few other people and a handful of straps. Talk about topping from the bottom, she left no doubt who was in charge and, not knowing her, I didn't want to push it - and it must've been working for her, her bottom was tanned pretty good but oh-so-smoothly and some of these were not light straps.

She was misbehaving with another brat, which was extremely disruptive, but we eventually got in under control - I had her bent over the back of a regular chair, holding the seat, and we moved to where the chair was against the wall and couldn't slide forward and the brats were decently separated.

By this time I had strapped her hard with several different straps, which she loved, probably spanked her some, too... all of which she soaked up like desert sand taking in rain. Narrow perfectly padded bottom on a body that was like, you couldn't decide between athletic and nice curves and this was the perfect compromise...

She complained that I was wrapping a bit so I corrected that... and then she produced a long frat paddle, I think a half-inch - thinner than I'm used to but not one of the super-thin quarter-inch ones - and full of holes, asked if I knew how to use it - I said "sure, this is my end, that's your end" - which made her scowl... but after a couple of swats - she was still bent over the back of this lightweight chair - she stood up and said I was over-hitting, to focus on the near cheek and let the far take care of itself (partly because the paddle, being thin and full of holes, was more flexible than I'm used to, and her bottom was not entirely as wide as I'm used to). I tried again and got "nope, too far, nope, too far..." finally got it about right... for a couple... then she stood up and said no again - I offered to tied her arms to the chair... she knew I was serious - I was dressed as Indiana Jones and had rope hanging from my belt - and said no... got her to bend over again and laid one on that I knew was good - the heaviness with which I was swatting her was also making the paddle flex more... she said that was good and I suggested that she count the good ones out loud and could skip the ones she didn't like... she counted one and two - and I mean, I laid into her... skipped the next one, counted the third and jumped up saying "enough, I want to be able to play for the rest of the party..." anyway, great fun...

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A little too far...

2008-12-26T11:48:00.000-08:00

I took the plastic top off of a scented candle and it says on it - "Recycle Before Use." Has this maybe gone a bit far?

How about we take it straight from the store to the recycle bin? I mean, okay, I probably have done with a few things, but there were years in my closet in between...

I'm not even sure how you'd know if you recycled something before you used it, or not - or if someone else had. Do you think it would say on the label?

Sleeping on planes

2008-12-21T21:02:00.000-08:00

been on a couple of long plane trips lately, and I always take a sleepmask, especially on the red-eye - you know, those blue, silky on one side, padded things...

but somewhere in my collecting I picked up this blindfold - not too directly kinky - fluffy lined eye cups, thin black leather, but nice... probably ought to be wearing this, huh?

the picture kind of sucks, we'll see if we can show it on someone...

no telling who I might meet...

Bad Santa

2008-12-06T11:24:00.000-08:00

If you haven't got any kids around, check out Bad Santa with Billy Bob Thorton and Lauren Graham:

if you have got kids around, learn to look at a DVD's rating before you put it in...

What's this got to do with spanking? Nothing except that this Gilmore Girl certainly earns one or two (lifetimes worth) in this cute little role...

St. Petersburg, Florida, 2008

2008-06-14T11:44:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at the table in the entry of Suite 7804 late Saturday night, the last night of the last party on a four-month string of scenes and dates that has left my heart trampled, my direction obscure, and my sanity in question. The door's on the latch as it always is and it swings open, its frame filled by the woman who started it all, all six-plus feet of her atop high heels and displaying the kind of curves that'll put a scenic railway in the guidebook. Black halter top, hot pink panties and signature glasses, "Moonie" is celebrating ten years since the founding of the original Florida Moonshine by offering free swats. Oh - and the panties, about four feet off the ground, are backless.

It seems like every bit of ten years that I've been promising to make it to a Florida party, but in truth the Florida Moonshine group as I know it - the current one - was started back up by Tony and Gail, Ian, and Alona back in 2005 or so - so it couldn't really be that long that I've been trying to get here. Even so...

I get off the shuttle in front of the hotel and immediately realize that I haven't been on an East Coast beach since I was fifteen. On the Pacific you don't get the heat and humidity this close to the water, and the feeling, the sense of it, is unmistakable. Boardwalks and crazy dreams of summer romance rush back with an immediacy that make it seem like yesterday - or at the very least, last summer. Of course, no one here calls this the East Coast - it's the West, or Gulf Coast. And I could not have chosen a better destination for my first visit to Florida - the beach at St. Pete has graced plenty of postcards, I'm sure; the view from my balcony is only surpassed by the view from my door.

We'll have to see what can be said and what can be hinted at and what is better kept to myself, but cutting right to the chase scene - was it better than Shadow Lane? Ian wants everyone on the planet there next year and every positive word helps - so I'll say this much: it was perfect. It was just what I needed just when I needed it. Everyone I knew welcomed me; everyone I met welcomed me. The setting was beautiful; of course the women were beautiful. One guy turns leather into art; another handles a whip with a touch that leaves his partners with open mouths and glazed eyes. It was relaxed; it was exciting. It was, in a word, "nice." After the dungeons of Dom Con, after the weekends spanning Sacramento, San Francisco and San Jose followed by Central California and Orange County, after I-5 has become yet another viewing of the same in-flight movie, it was perfect.

Did I miss my fabulous California crowd? Did I miss the familiarity of Ventura Boulevard, the Riviera, South Coast Plaza and the Strip? Eight video vixens on the bed? Shadow Lane is Shadow Lane, LA is LA, what can I say? Don't ask me to dis my home town. So no, no comparisons... but God, what a party... what a great time. Thank you - everyone. For everything.

This strap hurts, I know it, that's why I've chosen it. Slant-tipped, barely wider than it is thick, cut from reins for a Clydesdale. And I'm laying it on. But she is feeling guilty, she needs to feel it. Her bottom is well warmed-up, maybe too warmed up. I lay a practice stroke across her thighs, and a second. She says that's what she needs. When I make her.

Six across the bottom, hard... three across the thighs that make my teeth grind. She doesn't move, at least not much - maybe because her ankles are wrapped tight and I've tied her hands to the bedpost. Six and three, six and three - she is clearly suffering, the print of nine strokes standing out, short and rectangular on her near thigh, long across the other, the slant-cut clearly visible on the far side. Six more across her bottom. I pause and put my mouth by her ear, a whisper asking her to ask me to not give her the last three - she's had enough, I tell her. She's a good girl and does as I ask. I spend the next three hours in a state of relaxed satisfaction - filled or drained, I can't tell which... but the near panic of the past four, or five, or six months is palatable in its absence.

TPE, Vanilla Style

2008-04-13T07:43:00.000-07:00

I had an interesting experience over the weekend (well, some recent weekend) in a very vanilla fashion. For what seems like all my life – at least back to junior high school, anyway – I've been the one in my relationships who made the plans and decisions and was expected to know and consider – in fact, honor - my partner's preferences. You might question whether I was the dominant party or they were just letting me do all the work, but that's really beside the point - I'm not accustomed to being on the submissive end of Total Power Exchange.

In any event, this particular weekend a friend invited me to Washington DC and I was anxious for a chance to see her. Since I'd never been, and the place is full of sights and all, my friend assumed that I was anxious to see the place – plus, no doubt, she wanted to show off her city where she's lived for 20+ years. So, despite the fact that she's a bottom, she immediately set off to make a schedule for us to best utilize our time in the Capital (I always say that the first thing a top needs to control is time).

I assured her repeatedly that I was coming to see her, against this backdrop of history, rather than the backdrop itself – and that whatever we did, together, would be fine with me. Since I myself have heard this response many times before - only to later hear of the many exceptions to "fine," I resolved to stick to it myself. She did check with me on a few of her suggestions and all of them were not only completely acceptable but very inviting. Really, though, I gave her very little help, expressing no food or drink preferences except for an absence of onions (which she honored) and wine, which she ignored. She chose the route, she chose the menu, she chose the schedule and itinerary and everything else.

I think I did a good job of being obedient. I didn't second-guess, I didn't criticize, I stuck (easily) to my position that anything we did together was a pleasurable undertaking. When things inevitably went wrong, I was supportive. I reassured her – probably ten or twenty times a day – that I would be happy to participate in whatever she suggested, with or without knowing what it would entail.

Odd as it may sound, this was a new or at least rare experience for me, having someone else willingly take responsibility for everything – and what a great and relaxing time I had! I'm afraid that my hostess didn't find my visit as relaxing but we did both have a really excellent time. I seldom, if ever, looked at my watch, never worried about the wait for the metro, or weighed alternatives for crossing downtown (well, the White House neighborhood) late on Saturday night. I was a little lucky in that, having committed myself to eating whatever she came up with for dinner, it turned out to be totally delicious and the only effort required was to stop. I didn't set the alarm in the morning and when it went off I didn't bother to find out what time it was; nor did I worry how much time we had to get in a good night's sleep.

I'm not saying that this is going to initiate any long-term changes, but it did definitely broaden my perspective a bit...

Blame

2008-03-07T12:54:00.000-08:00

So now I'm old. Last Friday, the 29th, was my on-line birthday, making me 40, as one particularly astute correspondent pointed out. So I'm old. Last Friday wasn't my real life birthday, which comes in October, making me Libra, balanced but judging. Which I try not to do - I want to understand and analyze and accept. If I look at the last ten years, I hope "analyze and accept" describes how I've developed.

I never thought about profiles showing my age changing, only about them showing my birthday, so I list February 29 as one more non-fact of anonymity. I assumed that any real person - as opposed to spam robot - who saw it would figure it was made up, just like the way I list my zip code sometimes as 90210. It's funny when I get spam saying "Hi I just moved to Beverly Hills and want to meet some cute single guys so it sounds like you fit the bill." Obviously spam (okay, obvious on a number of fronts). And no, I don't live on the set of an abandoned TV show, though sometimes I feel that way.

But these little deceptions don't get around the fact that time is passing and I am getting older and as I get older it is easier and easier to give up some things. I listened to an REM CD - nothing says "this is 1990" like a solid series of REM songs - including "Blame." I have given up my belief in Blame.

Blame, like Credit, expands as you share it. The more you keep for yourself, the less there is to go around. So I try to act accordingly.

I had a job once where Blame was our main focus. We had more workers than work and were all waiting to be axed in a seemingly endless series of lay-offs. We had little to do but to study Blame. Whenever a mistake was made, no matter how seldom, we would convene a team to form a policy to prevent its future occurrence. It didn't matter if our recommendations required far more work than simply fixing the occasional mistake when it occurred - we as a company were dedicated to the eradication of mistakes even at the "expense" of effort required, since we had excess people on hand.

The one good purpose of the Blame Game is to look at things you did wrong and want to swear never to do again. Maybe it makes you feel more secure hoping that you can keep a bad experience from ever recurring. We're all learning, aren't we?

Well, now I'm old - at least on-line and soon in real life. Maybe I've given up on learning. Maybe I'm starting to think "it's not what happens to you but how you recover that's important." I have already long thought that my mistakes were a reflection of my personality and accepted (after analysis) that I am actually pretty darn likely to make them again.

Cat is no longer here, after so intimately sharing every aspect of my life for so long - but I have nothing to point to and say "I'll never do that again." Probably not even that I'll try never to do that again. Did we make some mistakes? Yes, I'm sure we did and I did. Do I regret any of it? Only that we couldn't find a way to make it work. Did I, or we, give up too soon? No. We tried as hard as we could, we tried everything we could. Did I, or we, let it go too long? No. We wanted to keep trying, there's no blame in that. Should I, or we, have foreseen that it would turn out as it did? Maybe - but if we did I would have still taken the chance on it.

Maybe this means that at some point in the future I will be back to exactly where I am now, which is far from perfect. Maybe it means that I will enjoy several or many years of my life but not develop, not progress, not learn from my mistakes at all. I think I can accept that, which I suspect is a sign of getting old.

The company I worked for did manage to eliminate a lot of mistakes - but it didn't make them perfect. Maybe it didn't make them disappear, but it certainly didn't prevent it. I think for me, personally, I will rather go on making mistakes and trying to recover than being paralyzed with fear or suffocated with caution.

A Little Rope, a Glass of Wine, and Thou...

2008-01-30T19:08:00.000-08:00

I've recently developed something of an interest in Japanese rope bondage – started some months ago when Cat got me a gift of ropes and books from Twisted Monk, a very cool dude (at www.twistedmonk.com). The book I most like is Shibari You Can Use, maybe because I'm not used to crafts instructions and they make things very clear, despite having to repeat themselves a lot. By now I also have Bondage for Sex, which focuses on positions of exposure, and Cat had gotten me The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage by Midori, with my favorite photographer, Craig Morey. The last one is not always as straightforward as the first two, so that's the order I've been reading them in.

Apparently Japanese rope bondage utilizes "reverse tension" as a basis for its technique. This is pretty simple but I've found it to provide some very secure yet comfortable bonds – so I've been told, repeatedly. They do tend to use a lot of rope, but it's a huge improvement over what we've been trying since we were kids – ties that are too tight and still slip off, or really narrow and cut in, or have huge impossible knots. I'm sure somewhere Japanese rope bondage uses some fancy knots – why wouldn't it? but I haven't needed them yet.

Also, the bonds are usually pretty attractive. I don't have any photos yet, because none of my partners (so far) have been real big on having their picture taken, let alone posted... so, still looking on that one. I do have a great new camera, though – just a little Canon point-and-shoot but I can turn the lights on and shoot without a flash, most of the time, and the pictures are terrific.

All the same, certain traits crop up whatever the subject – I'm trying to force myself to have patience and gain some experience with the ties in the book, which tend to be rope-only. What I really would like to do, I imagine, is to mix rope and rattan and do something less common. I'd say "original" but any time I do someone always says "oh yes, did you see that at www.I've_done_that_already.com?" or some damn thing... well, someday – in the meantime, more practice...

Wood and Leather

2007-12-24T13:57:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine reports that she's developing a liking for leather, and I'm not too surprised... whether it's a slap or a sting, leather is a touch – wood is a collision. Leather persuades – sometimes it insists – while wood is a shouted order. Leather is a woman – even at its hardest it is not rigid. It warms to you, it adapts, it moulds its shape to your shape. Wood is a man – rigid, solid, unyielding. Oh yes, it can be dependable, it can be counted on, it can provide security and shelter – but under its own terms. You can't shape wood – you merely try to remove the parts you don't want or like, quickly with a blade or through the slow, persistent process of abrasion.

The great tragedy is that a man wants a woman to never change, and she does; a woman wants a man to change and he doesn't. A wooden ruler is the same after years of use while a leather belt has softened and curled and knows your shape, even if it still restrains you - or restrains you better or at least more comfortably.

Leather is warm and good for cold weather; it encases you, trapping you with yourself. And it gets to be too much when things get hot and active and when things are done you want it off of you. Wood is there and then it's gone though often you remember it well. It doesn't care if you're sweaty. The memory of wood is a clear, contained memory. The memory of leather is long, holistic, blurred – when did it start? When did it end? How intense did it ever really get? How much was the strap and how much was me?

Leather stings with a lover's bite – sharp, intense, stimulating, even unbearable. Wood bites to injure, and much be taught not to, hacked and sanded and kept under control.

Leather requires care, and expects it. Cleaned, oiled, not to wet, not too dry, not bent or folded or even ignored too long. Wood, you throw it in the corner and when you want it it's there – and bending or folding is not even a question. But if you hurt it, it develops a nasty bite and if patient smoothing – more removal – doesn't work, you may even have to get rid of it.

Both have their purpose. We fantasize about wood, we imagine control, inarguable orders that must be followed. And then we discover that what we want is the idea of control, the image in our mind that never fails us, combined with the caress of our body in slower, persuasive, tailored strokes – the slowly building fire that coaxes our physical responses, that gives us time to react and absorb.

And sometimes we need more – early and after. Sometimes our bodies have to be pushed rudely into matching our mental state, sometimes they have to be controlled and directed. Sometimes we want the lasting undeniable physical memory of deep soreness, of sharp renewed pain. And sometimes we're too sensitive for that.

Wood reminds us when we move, when we act, when we try to do something. Leather reminds us when we stop, when we relax, when we try to do nothing.

How can we be expected to choose?

Kids grow up so fast!

2007-12-08T14:35:00.001-08:00

Check out "Mom is Santa" at www.cardclips.com

Thanks to a very cute friend for this very cute clip!

Holiday Spirit

2007-12-02T17:09:00.000-08:00

As Party Time Approaches...

2007-08-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

(A re-post of advice on attending the ShadowLane Party)

Before we know it the time for yet another enormous Shadow Lane party will be here and we will all be packing off to Vegas. If anyone out there is a newcomer, or a fence-sitter (ouch, sore bottom or not…), here are a few of my thoughts on what to expect and what to do:

The first thing you want to do is rent "Rocky Horror Picture Show." Twenty minutes into the movie, the Time Warp scene might as well have been filmed at Friday Night's Vendor's Faire. Brad and Janet, seeking shelter from the storm, knock on Dr. Frankenfurter's door to find that there's a party going on. They're led to the ballroom which is filled with people from Transylvania or someplace. Here's what's like SL: the lights are up full and the people look pretty normal. It's not dark, smoky, or full of leather dommes leading g-stringed yuppies on leashes. There are a lot of people all chattering and drinking a little and they're generally very welcoming. While Brad and Janet stand there with their mouths hanging open the entire large crowd does not seem to think anything unusual is going on. After teaching them the Time Warp, the regular guests quickly strip Brad and Janet down to their skivvies, which is usually only slightly less successful at the SL party – not that the attempt isn't made.

The second thing you want to do is collect up some reviews of Las Vegas shows and sights to see – not that you'll see any, which is why you need the reviews. When you go back home and tell friends that you spent the weekend in Las Vegas and didn't see any chorus girls, Bellagio fountains (watch the end of Ocean's Eleven), magicians, Circe d'Soliel or slot machines… well, they might just wonder what you were up to. You must at least know who is playing at the Stardust and actually Rick Thomas's magic show, if it's still playing afternoons there, is a great show and family-friendly fare. Also, if you can find anything on Blue Man Group at the Venitian, it's these three guys all in blue make-up who use a lot of drums and never say a word an it's so odd that everyone knows you can't explain any of it even if you've been to it. And they give the first three rows ponchos to protect them from the banana pudding.

You know, I've heard on multiple occasions of ladies thinking, before the party, well, Erica'll be there, Sierra will be there, other video stars'll be there, I'll probably just have to watch – no one's going to want to play with me. My advice is, pack an extra pillow anyway, since nothing could be further from the truth. There will be probably 200 guys there and all of them from 15 years younger to 50 years older, plus a few assorted weirdoes, anxious to spank you, probably repeatedly. Now, while this may sound great, it does mean that you may need to exercise a bit of restraint. And, as a toppy male, I understand that you might not want to play with me – that's okay. BUT you should observe two rules. Rule number 1: don't send me on a quest. If I ask you to play and you say "not now," I will be back every 15 minutes until you're across the state line. If you say "not in public" I'll try to drag you back to my room; if you say "not in your room" I'll try to drag you into a party (hey, whatever works for you.) In other words, if you mean "no" don't give me a fake excuse or I'll see it as an obstacle to overcome. Rule number 2: if you don't want to play, don't be a brat to me. Since women try all kinds of subtle (and not-so-subtle) approaches to being asked to play, I'm going to take this as a "yes."

Sheesh, typical top, two rules of what not to do. Bad way to start. Okay, something you can do to help me out. If you do want to play, turn your back on the other five guys who are trying to talk to you at the same time – that way I'll be free to ask and if you say "no" I don't have an audience to crash and burn in front of. I understand that this may be difficult, because the attention pressure can get heavy and usually pretty enjoyable in its own right, but if you want to have some say in who your play partners are, see if you can help thin the crowd a little. A little bit of shoulder goes a long way.

Assistance #2 is the flip side of rule #1: if you want to play and this is a bad time, tell me when a good time (or circumstance) would be. Sure, you're next in line for that Antonio Banderas-looking guy, who can blame you, make me wait, what am I going to do, complain? Even something as positive as "can we play later?" instead of "maybe later" would be nice. And when you are ready, come find me – believe me, I'll remember. (okay, now we can hear all the stories of match-ups that never worked out… go ahead…)

Guys: you've seen Eve's advice – network, network, network. I don't know how much I can add, though I can tell you what my experience has been. Recent SL party I saw a guy, he was calling in on his cell phone as he approached the hotel, I swear he was playing within 5 minutes of walking through the door. But it was because he's in some on-line group (and I think they'd met plenty of times in person before, too) and he knew everybody and had played with them before. The sad truth is, it's tough on a new single guy. It's not that different from a junior-high dance – the women tend to play with guys they know or friends of women they know. Another story, same party – a new guy showed up with his wife, who knew some of the other people there. He played with a friend of hers while she played with a lot of guys she knew from on-line. He had a great time, but it would have been a lot harder without having his wife's "recommendation."

As for my own personal experiences, they're a bit skewed because at different parties I've been interested in different things – but even so, they might be some indication. The first party I went to, I was looking to meet someone to form a relationship with, so I did no playing at all – unbelievably, since I did have some chances. However, I had networked a lot, so I did know a few people here and there (and I make friends fast). And for three parties, Cat and I didn't play with anyone else, so maybe that changes things a little. Even so, I counted up the number of women I've played with who I met for the first time at that party, and it was really low. Seriously, I think it's five women in eight parties out of a total in the mid-twenties. And of these five, three were introduced to me by friends (thank you, teammates). Now I admit that I prefer to play with women I know, but even so, there have been plenty of women I've approached over the years without success. The other twenty? I had met each of them at a previous party (when we didn't play) or on-line or both.

Now, if you've never been to a party like this you may be drooling at the prospect of spanking twenty beautiful women and you're totally right, it's great, but notice that that translates to about three new play partners per party. When I add a couple that I've played with before, it might be five scenes per party. This is probably about average for a guy. If a woman plays, on average, ten times, and there are twice as many men as women, a guy's average is going to be about five. And four of those five women are going to be someone I already know.

Now maybe this is all just me. Ladies, what do you think?

Anyway, say I'm right – and the party's only a month away. Is it too late? Should you go to this one or just start working toward the next one? I'd say, both. The people you meet at the party make it easier to meet people on-line and the people you meet on-line make it easier to play with someone at the party. I'm sure I'm not the only example of this – I went to one party with a woman who I had met in person a few months earlier, and she had only agreed to meet me because Erica Scott said I probably wasn't a creep – and Erica had only known this because I'd seen her at an SL party. And the only reason Erica had known who I was was because I'd come over to her MSN/World Groups Southern California Spanked Wives Club when she posted an invitation on the old SSS newsgroup (okay, now I feel old). It really hasn't changed since jr. high – friends beget friends beget friends.

ShadowLane Party Repost – 2006 – Up to the Party

2007-08-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

So, has everyone finished their post-Vegas smoke-flavored laundry?

Okay I know everybody is anxious and I know what you're anxious for – action, not musings on the deeper-running emotions of the scene. So we're going to hit town right off the bat, tell you the high points, and then delve deeper or darker later, if ever.

High points – a scene lasting less than two minutes; another having over twenty minutes of straight, steady spanking; play with one of my oldest friends in the scene; dinner with a new – and the youngest (looking) friend; a very hot scene over jeans; a bare-bottomed scene for the A/C repairmen; complex, intimate scenes with friends; lovely simple just-to-connect scenes with other friends.

Clare Fonda rockin' the house with her stand-up; Authority Song rockin' "Victim of Love" with Global Warming; a Friday afternoon party with 100 guests and 200 toys; a Vendor's Fair of video vixen led by but by no means limited to Discipline Dolls Samantha and Sierra; the return of Steve and Anaia and a gang of great guys too numerous to mention (till later); Saturday with the couples of The Punishment Book; and Erica playing Audrey Hepburn to Keith Jones' Cary Grant and then Danny's Irish, cane-wielding Dean Martin.

So let's forget the missed connections, missing friends and temporarily missing backpack and video camera (apparently left in the hotel lobby or parking lot), the never-enough-time and schedule conflicts; the disappointments and headaches and heartbreaks. Time enough for that or, if not, all the better. For now:

Desperation Takes the Elevator

Skipping the pre-party party, the planning, networking, packing, and drive, we'll jump into the frame at the lobby of the Stardust where ShadowLaners are waiting to check in (it's not three o'clock yet and the rooms aren't cleaned) and for each other. DanDan and Harry are here, and Dee, EC and many others – people I know, people I've chatted with, and a few new people. Mike and Kelly of Real Life Spankings – who I met last year in Palm Springs – have just gotten married and are extending their honeymoon. Kelly, a petite young woman over from Holland, dark-skinned with jet black hair to her shoulders, is in rare form, hyper beyond words, a brat of biblical proportions.

They're already checked in and after much encouragement I ask Kelly if she wants to go up to her room to play, which she thinks is a great idea, but then decides it would be better not to play in private and to wait for Dee's party later in the evening. Which seems wise. Cat and I check in and I return to the lobby to keep an eye on the gathering horde, time passes, Kelly gets more and more exuberant – and annoying.

Now one thing I pride myself on is my lack of desperation and my California attitude that there'll always be another chance for a beautiful scene on a beautiful day with a beautiful girl. So blame it on Vegas, or Opening-Night nerves, or the fact that Kelly has just mussed my hair for the tenth time in as many minutes – I ask her if the elevators would be public enough to qualify as playspace.

The Tower at the Stardust is 32 floors high with an express past 2 through 17. Doors close, I try to rip down her pants (need to be unbuttoned, soon remedied) and we're on our way. Kelly, by the way, does not know about the rule "no reaching back," so I've got her right hand behind her and just enough of a lean to smack her good. And she does have a delightful little bottom, just soft enough, just firm enough.

At 32 the doors open so I send her to the corner where she's least likely to be seen – and what does this brat do but pull her pants up! No one gets on so it's back down for us and her pants as well since I have to start all over. Since there's a lot higher chance of someone greeting us in the lobby than on 32 I stop early but get the job done, trust me.

Yes, I know, there are cameras on the elevators – a fact Kelly seems surprised to be informed of. But come on – she's already in videos and I'm sure that the security, who I know has watched the tape for 24 hours straight on a two-minute loop, couldn't pick me out of a line up of three people and a dog.

Here's something interesting (as opposed to exciting) – we return to the lobby with huge smiles but I keep getting hit with waves of serious vertigo. I'm thinking that bending over (to reach Kelly's bottom) while an elevator drops 32 floors is not good for my sense of balance.

Dee's Party Really Heats Up

Okay you really pretty much have to know the story behind this a bit – I've known Cindy a long time and back in July at the OC party she invited Cat and me to her totally fabulous soirée the Saturday night before the party. We went, she and I talked and danced, but, realistically, it was a little hard for her to play much, being hostess and all – though she offered me a rain check.

Dee's party is the highlight of Thursday night, she and her beau graciously open their suite to party early-arrivers and it is really the place to be – for us and for everyone else. Cat and I have barely gotten in the door when two workmen with ladders muscle past – the AC is not working at all, apparently. Suddenly Cindy is in front of me, chic, sleek, jet-black hair, a peach gown, and big big eyes that sparkle with something beyond mischief. She wants to play, here, now.

This time I'm the one who's cautious so we check with Dee but she says full steam ahead. Now I usually play on what I call the "short" side of the bed – close to the wall with the nightstand on my right, to give my lovely partner some small semblance of privacy. We settle into this spot and get started, and it's not too long before Cindy's got about six yards of satin up around her waist. We're making some noise but let's face it, my natural desire for privacy is not what's going to float her boat, so we change sides.

So here's the set-up. Dee's got a suite, a big room with a couch on one end and a bed at the other. At the couch end is the path to the door; at the bed end is the path to a bathroom the size of a Hollywood soundstage. In the ceiling outside the bathroom is the grate for the AC, plus two ladders adorned with two workmen. On the edge of the bed is a delightful smiling young lady with a rapidly pinkening posterior.

Oh yes. The back wall, behind the workmen, is mirrored. So these guys don't even have to face us to watch, they can be as discrete as they like. My guess is, they like.

Guys –

Okay, a break to mention some of the guys I saw around, even though I know I’ll leave a lot of people out – some because I don't know how widely their names are used on-line and I prefer to err on the side of caution. Harry, who always has a great party going, both in Vegas and LA, and a mutual friend of Dolores Cortez who is conspicuously absent; DanDan representing the Florida Moonshine contingent and an awful lot of fun with his crazy crew of brats he has buzzing around; E.C surrounded by the Arizona crowd; David 007 primed and ready for action. Saw Lance in the bar hitting on T, Tara’s cousin who lives in Vegas but is not in the scene and is so hot I almost for a minute wish I was vanilla (kinda); Dallas, of course, with his Punishment Dolls and their friends.

Cynthia tells me a story about getting kicked out of the pool at 4 AM or something with New Mike, probably for skinny-dipping, and she is obviously interested in his immediate return; and I already mentioned Kelly’s new hubby Mike. Ian London Tanner is only there to work, of course, and earn his daily bread by the sweat of his brow, or so he says.

Amazingly, too, there are a few guys who I still don’t know their names, which is a little hard to explain considering how often I’ve seen them and how many of my friends they’ve played with. Oh also there are many people who I enjoyed seeing but I don’t know if they want their names on here so I will just refer to them obliquely or have to leave them off. Also, I can’t completely remember who came in exactly when, for instance I know Shelayla and Stephen were there Thursday but of course some of the details are already hazy.

My Oldest Friend In the Scene – Candidate Number One

It's right after check-in when my phone rings – Mir's plane has just touched down. Okay, I'll admit it, I'm flattered. She's looking for Cat and me to join her at the Stardust's great sushi restaurant. Just like me, she's full of ideas and goals and plans and is looking for company.

With only a little poetic license I can call Mir my oldest friend in the SL scene, having met her a dozen parties ago. Twelve semi-annual ShadowLane parties, not counting her cross-country birthday party weekend a few years back. So you get the idea. I'm particularly enamored of her at the moment because she's just put up a very funny ironic post about the TSA not being able to confiscate her K-Y jelly and my admiration for her talent for humorous writing is only slightly tinged by envy that she has actually gotten published.

Mir is kind of quirky and kinky. Some people in the scene seem to try to "de-sex" spanking, or use the size of the crowd as validation that we're actually pretty normal – but not Mir, who quotes me back to myself with "we all know we're really not supposed to be here." That's what I like – let's not forget that spanking is, after all, pretty naughty.

But beyond that there's another, maybe innate connection – we think in the same way, or communicate in the same way, or see things the same way, or something – something very pleasant and familiar and comfortable.

She guides us expertly through a Japanese dinner, complete with salted snapping soy peas-in-a-pod or some such thing, sushi, sashimi, and tempura – all delicious. After a brief time in the bar Cat heads back to our place and Mir and I go off to play.

By now everyone knows that I own at least one of just about anything that can be held in the hand and make contact with human skin without grievous bodily harm – so I ask if I should bring anything along, but Mir declines, which is fine with me – I always say "it's your spanking" and I'd take a lot more interest in what was being used if it was my butt on the receiving end. So we go with that.

She's got on this narrow little denim mini and heels so when I sit on the bed her hem is right at hand level and the skirt just seems to float upward. She's slender without being frail, her perfectly smooth skin barely pink and translucently pale, her thighs and bottom small but still softly padded. It actually seems a little odd, we're so at ease together talking and dining and walking into the room and without tussling or lecturing or pretense she's over my knee getting spanked, slowly at first but firmly, over her carefully-planned party panties and then not.

Mir's got several traits in common with Dolores and they're very good friends, so good in fact that while Dolores claims she's too busy to come to Vegas she's not too busy to call every five minutes though in this case Mir calls her, saying "Guess what I'm doing right now? Guess who I'm playing with?" and Dolores is delightfully envious because we do love to play. But the conversation is short, we are, after all, otherwise engaged.

There's more to it than that, however; more of a connection than just hand to bottom, no matter how lovely that is in itself, something I can't really express. Maybe not deeper, maybe just so many little ways that get just below the surface, here and here and here, ways that don't even belong to the scene, just begin there and reach out and away, a constantly shifting kaleidoscope, rearranging and falling into place again and again. It's complex, what can I say?

Samantha Plays My Heartstrings Like a Harp

We're in the gin joint at the foot of the elevators, SL Base of Operations, maneuvering between the merely intoxicated and the completely blasted when Samantha Woodley comes in to grab a drink or two. Hugs ensue, smiles, polite endearments...

Cat and I saw Madonna in concert in June and she made me feel like she seriously wanted me onstage with her – which is exactly how Samantha makes you feel. And to feel special to a beautiful woman is a pretty good feeling indeed. So like Ulysses wanting to hear the voices of the Sirens, I sail nearer – I just have to remember to tie myself to the mast first.

She looks up at me – she always looks up, none of this backing off and then looking directly at me – and curves her body to match mine, as if she's snuggled against me though we're not even quite touching. If we did I expect it'd throw off sparks. Her body's relaxed but her breath is shallow and her face anxious as we exchange promises to get together and play later.

Later, later, later, I run into her in the hall outside the elevators, as she sits in a chair finishing a cigarette before going off to play with Lance. I chide her for having missed me and she (looking up at me) lowers her eyelashes, slowly. By the time she raises them, the tiniest trace of disappointment across her brow, we both know all is already forgiven.

I didn't get within thirty feet of Madonna.

Some Time Alona

When I described Dee's suite I described it like our own – that is to say, one big room and one super-big bathroom. But apart from ourselves, everyone who has a suite party gets the adjoining room as well, a twin-queen room with a far far higher proportion of bed-to-floor area. The side room is sort of interesting because it provides a certain kind of almost-privacy: you don't have people wandering through, since it's hard to navigate; but on the other hand the people who are present are right on top of you and not too likely to move. It's not uncommon for couples to be playing on either side of each bed with bystanders (friends, usually) grouped in the corner or along the dresser – and of course in the area in front of the bathroom, by the doors.

I say things like "I'm not much of a voyeur" but the truth is I am no kind of voyeur at all – there's been a scene or two I've enjoyed watching, as Erica knows, but mostly I still consider spankings to be either participatory or private. Plenty of people are fine with entering the side room and watching, and the people who play there had better be fine with it, too, I'm just not one of them, so usually if I don't have a specific purpose and company I tend to stay in the larger suite room. Okay, that's just me.

In this case, however, I decided to check out who was in the side room, which happened to be the Florida-area contingent, including a woman named Sass and her husband, from the Southeast (I'm sort of assuming a lot of you know them better than I do). Apparently Sass had gotten a little carried away with her bulletin board or chat remarks but that was being attended to. Sass seems like a really nice woman with dark hair, nice eyes, and a big smile but while I never heard her say an unkind or unhappy word all weekend she seemed to be constantly in trouble and had some very enthusiastic caretakers. That was happening close at hand – the far side of the near bed – and a couple other minor on-line sins were being dealt with on the far bed, I believe. About three to five people were crowded into the far corner including our lovely Florida Irish lass, Alona.

Don't ask me how this works or how we get along so well – we enjoy talking downstairs or on-line or playing upstairs but never mix the two, which seems to work out fine. So we chased Sass's husband out from the near side of the bed and settled in. On the plus side, Alona's got cheery blue eyes, mahogany hair, pale freckled skin and an impish smile. On the down side, she has far, far too many friends. Okay, so I like to start slowly, okay? I mean, I haven't seen her in a year, no sense in rushing – and immediately I'm hearing "She's giggling! (yawning, chatting, calling out for pizza)." I think Dan is usually the worse, he's suspicious of everything. Of course, this situation is aggravated by the fact that I like to sit with her facing the room and her bottom pointed toward the corner, maybe if I turned her around...

And the fact is, she's behaving pretty well. We really do seem to play well together so I guess we're both resisting the temptation to play to the crowd, which is pretty good-sized. Now, it's Thursday night, we've got three more days of partying ahead of us, we're really just getting started, so we're playing at a pretty medium level – medium speed, medium hard, nice, cup-handed spanks that can go on and on and build up nicely. Not, however, the most exciting thing to watch, especially since I'm the only one seeing that lovely creamy skin get pinker and pinker. So somebody – probably Dan again – tells me that Alona says I spank like a girl.

Frankly, seriously, I don't even usually watch girls spank, but I can imagine how they do – loose wrists, loose fingers (which I spread for a lot more sting), lots of snap, I would guess. Alona arches her back and starts to shift from side to side – clearly my girl-spanks are different from how I was doing it before. And not really the most popular with my pretty playmate. So to be fair I compare this to how guys spank – and I mean your archetypical, literal minded, testosterone fueled guy spanker, stiff wrist, stiff elbow, and hard. Well, her back's still arched, but instead of side-to-side she's rocking back and forth, which is always good. Pretty soon no one is commenting at all and we're just having a nice scene – then no one's watching at all, by which I mean the entire crowded room has cleared out. A few people I don't know peek around the corner but maintain a respectful distance (probably waiting for the bathroom).

In the end I don't really know what we said or did or didn't do, but it was very very nice to have some time alone with Alona.

I'm now realizing that I'm not even going to be able to get all of the good things in here, there's always something I miss...

The Big Name Change

One of the changes and minor hassles of this party was that I have changed my name though my friends have been very good about it – I think the person with the most problems was me. What has happened is, I would like to have a name I can use on the internet and associate with things like a blog or my fiction or if I ever make any videos. Cat uses this name for me (Matt, that is) on her blog and from there I took it over to the ShadowLane bulletin board and chat. Well once I started meeting people from chat many of them preferred to use my scene name rather than my real name, and the first party where we tried to use both was difficult for everyone, including me.

There’s not really a problem with doing this, if not for the fact that I have always used my real name and already know over half of the people at the ShadowLane party, many of them for several years. Since I really wanted to settle on one name, I asked everyone to call me Matt. Even people who I had to introduce myself to twice – to get my own name right – seemed understanding.

As for those who weren’t, I had two explanations – I’m not all that sensitive about my identity, since I figure that no one is going to stalk me (I should be so lucky!) and there’s not really a whole lot of people I could be “outed” to. Cat, on the other hand, is another matter – she has a very popular blog and gets fan mail from plenty of guys who would like to track her down – which is a trivial matter once you know my name. That could lead to some uncomfortable, scary, or downright dangerous situations. The second scenario I want to avoid is having my kids’ friends Google them and have my name come up in conjunction with a scene site. Neither of these is something I want to encourage.

Funny, though, that Gayle, who gave me endless grief over my moving from one name to another, quotes her nephews as saying “Aunt (blank), can we...”

One of Those Mornings

A lot of people don’t take the chance to see much if any of Vegas during the party – or maybe before or after would be a more reasonable expectation. I at least know my way around due to visiting Cat while she lived there, plus I have a car, which makes all the difference. Even so, we seldom leave and that’s not much different from a lot of people.

A casino’s got a lot to do but really even the big ones can get to be a pretty small place and the Stardust is not really a big one. So in addition to the Thursday afternoon arrivals, the lobby at the base of the elevators is populated every morning by party-goers, especially since it’s next to the coffee bar.

What all this is leading up to is the effort required to tell one day from another. Inside a casino it’s always 7 PM, sort of twilight, slightly cool. Add to this that there are only two types of suites – the ones that go left from the door and the ones that go right – and one type of bedroom; every morning is spent in the lobby, three events are held in the Ballroom, and we usually eat at least half of our meals in the Paradise Café – and you’ll start to understand why I may say I saw someone at a time earlier than they claim to have arrived.

Even so, I do remember Friday morning seeing Steve Fuller at the coffee bar at some ridiculous hour, considering his 4 AM arrival – which explains where the lovely and more sensible Anaia was; and I distinctly remember Katie, of Michael and Katie, Thursday night I think, in a white tank printed with “Please Sir, May I have some more?” which I recognized as a quote from Oliver Twisted.

For the most part I’m running around trying to tell everyone my room number for an open party 2-5, not an easy task. We solved about half of the problem Thursday night by logging onto the SL message board from Cindy's and posting it there; even so it’s hard to get word out to everyone, especially since half of them are not even awake yet. Actually, the biggest problem is people arriving in Vegas after the party starts, since everyone who’s interested is already in the room. Next time, however, we’ll get a better plan, as always.

Katie Strikes a Pose

If all you’ve seen of Katie is her picture with Michael that they use for chat, you’ve been missing out. She’s got big, big round eyes and long dark lashes and when I saw her, at least, her dark brown hair was close to her head with short curls framing her cherubic face. I might go on if I knew her a little better, but better than that, she looks exactly like this – pose and all:

[Photo]
(quick aside for a stupid comment: one party, desperate for an introduction to a woman I found completely enchanting, I actually went up to her and said "You must be a top, you're so striking..." to which she replied, "Well, no..." (which was a good thing, but I already knew that).)

When All Else Fails, Open the Doors and Throw a Party

Down in the lobby area I run into Bella, a Bay Area friend who I met first in chat and then at Shelayla’s July party. We’re anxious for another chance to play and I’m sort of thinking I will have some time between buying party supplies and the party itself, so we make sort of tentative plans, which I later realize Bella knew would not work from the start – but she was nice about it.

Looking back I’m still not sure where I lost an hour in there; maybe just here there and everywhere. Getting presentable took maybe an hour and the trip to the store took at least another, and I suppose some significant time finding a bellman and getting everything upstairs and organized. Plus I had several books to put out – a few books of art pictures including the Illustrated Story of O, the three volumes of the “Beauty” series, and several volumes of my own work. I’d rearranged the furniture and laid out/ dumped out the toys earlier in the morning, but even so, what I expected to take two-and-a-half hours took over three, squeezing out any Friday morning playtime.

One thing I have – I thought it was a decoration, though I think someone was using it – is a 60’s fraternity paddle from Theta Chi, my old house. Not your standard fraternity paddle, but a “Pledge Class” paddle – basically a small oar. Seriously it’s at least 36” x 8 or 10” and sort of oval instead of rectangular-ish. Like I said, I consider it a decoration so I laid it on the table with the chips. Meanwhile the big pile of “found” toys – spatulas, belts, spoons, home-made floggers, leather stable straps, and on and on – are all piled up on the coffee table, an 80-pound marble platform a foot high and four feet on each side.

We thought it’d be a good idea to put the water, beer and ice in the tub – there’s a separate tub and shower in these bathrooms – and the bellman is helping unload all the drinks when he spies the big paddle. “There’s a spanking convention here,” he tells us without irony or sarcasm, “every October. Can’t think of their name...” ShadowLane and Crimson Moon don’t ring any bells with him, but we promise to check into it and he leaves happy. Okay I have food for 100 and toys for 200 – he thinks the convention is in October? How about “there’s a spanking convention in an hour?”

Now let me qualify that a bit – when it comes to a party, people are looking for a room, a welcome, and guests of a similar mindset. A bag of chips they can get anywhere. So while some very generous people – Tom and Molly and Harry come to mind first, besides the absent Bob and Ariel – have hosted some great parties with very good snacks, running out of food is not a concern. Nor, really, running out of drinks, since we really don’t go through very many of those either (of course, this was 2 in the afternoon at the start of the party). What everyone comes for is the other people – so there’s always that brief moment of panic at 2:05 when there’s nobody there. Then Feisty and C show up, as well as 007, though the young ladies soon disappear – in search of Ian – never to return. But by then people are starting to arrive and we’re underway.

At first it’s a fairly sedate gathering and we have some discussions with Tom and his date, Robin and Mark, and a few other members of the swelling crowd but in pretty short order it’s the everyone-talking-at-once typical party. A few people are starting to play over on the bed and everyone is curious in one way or another what all of these – some slightly unusual – toys feel like. Bella and Katie (Ascuseme) arrive and we get a chance to find out.

Well as my party report starts taking longer to write than it did to experience I have to wonder if I should get a bit more linear and quit racing down little bunny trails (after little fluffy white tails) every few paragraphs, but haven't decided yet.

Different Strokes for Different Folks

When we last left our hero, the Friday afternoon suite party was rapidly filling up – some people, like LA Larry and Lindsay and Bill S from NY who figure more prominently later I haven't mentioned – and Bella and Katie had just joined us. I had definite plans to play somewhat extensively with each of them, though this wasn't the time for it, I wanted an opportunity to concentrate – but that didn't stop me entirely. When Bella and I had played at Shelayla's in July I had used, among other things, a little very thick hairbrush which is often quite popular. It has a lot of thud and gives a good, deep sensation without the eye-popping smack of the standard larger hairbrush. Bella had liked it so well that I'd rounded up several thick, heavy toys for her review.

Everyone likes something different and Bella claimed she liked heavy play before we ever met and did like the heavier elements when we did play, particularly this thick ebony men's hairbrush. It's not only for men's hair, it's really a guy-spanker's toy because – and don't let's have every woman out there jump all over me but – its handle is way too short and you have to have a really strong grip to use it firmly. I actually have a second brush like this, in yellow, and I brought it, along with a clothes brush, a workshop bench brush, and a miniature cricket bat (really).

When I round these up several of the ladies express dismay and sympathy but Bella has no qualms (or doesn't show any) about trying them out. If you read "Our Acquiescent Pixie" you already know how spank-friendly the suite furniture is but in case you didn't, in addition to the bed which has players on it and the chairs, sofa, and ottoman which have non-playing guests on them, there's a long padded bench that if I had the chance I'd probably buy from the hotel, it's that perfect. I'd put this over between the bed and the window and Bella and I head over there.

As I said, someone is playing on the bed right in front of us but once I put Bella over my knee (and half-way on the rest of the bench) I have no idea who they are – I guess my brain just draws a little cone of perception around what I'm doing. Bella's got on this mid-length, loose skirt and you know party decorum requires that I start over that, which I guess is mostly just a chance to make sure she's positioned comfortably. Oh by the way since I'm not sitting right at the end of this four-foot bench there's even room on my right to leave the toys I'm not using...

But at some point we get started in earnest and I guess the little yellow brush is a good proxy for the ebony one since she likes it just as well. The others don't really draw such rave reviews – the cricket bat, which is a light pale wood but about a full inch thick, has plenty of thud but doesn't have the hardness, weight, density – something - to go really deeply; the workbench brush is hard but not all that heavy and has a long narrow striking surface rather than a short wide one, and the clothes brush – at least this one – is just an oversized version of a hairbrush so you can imagine how popular that is. Even so it's good to have this stuff reviewed by an expert, or at least a very interested party.

If there's one single thing I'd most like to learn about spanking, it would be how to know the best time to stop. I mean, I know it varies with situations, but is there a fairly wide range on what's okay? Seriously, I think a lot of times when a woman's enjoying it I could go on forever, which is fine on Monday morning, but usually one of us, at least, has to use a little sense... On the other hand, I don't want to stop so early that it's more of an annoying tease than satisfying play...

Anyway, hopefully Bella gets spanked enough to keep her behaving until we can play a little more seriously – which I estimate as tomorrow, because the lesson I've never seemed to be able to learn is that all scenes are actually farther away than they appear.

Very possibly as a host I leave a lot to be desired – though all this lot desires is a room with a door – I do try to make sure everyone knows where the drinks are and that they're welcome to come in. Basically there's three crowds – far half of the room and playing; near half and socializing; and barely in the door. Naturally I'm trying to move people from the latter groups to the former – even if I have to do it one lady at a time.

I'm sort of assuming here that people know what Jill looks like since she uses her own picture in chat – dark blonde hair, chin length, blunt cut I think it's called – and we'd struck up a little e-mail discussion on the subject of kids, which, while I do not pretend to be an expert, I can at least always share my thoughts and experiences. Funny how quickly you can see how your personalities mesh in an intelligent discussion! I guess the story is she's been in Vegas all week but just now got over to ShadowLane and is meeting Ric (the guy who looks like Jerry Seinfeld) but he's not at the suite party. In the meantime I invite her to play and she immediately rules out anything wood, which is understandable, though it really cuts down the choices because all our best leather toys are actually Cat's and are locked up somewhere. I do have my own, however, besides the belt I'm wearing – I have this great double leather strap, thick, two inches wide and 18 inches long (that's elbow to fingertips for most people) so I grab that. I may get one with holes someday but this one is pretty solid.

I think by now someone's moved the bench to suit themselves so we take the bed this time, somewhat blocked from view by the armoire that holds the TV and though the curtains are open (I am a fiend for sunlight) we're on the 28th floor so, pretty safe. We play like that, starting slowly, building up and mindful of three more days of party... that seems to go along pretty well. It's still always a little surprising how comfortable it is to play with someone you're comfortable with... she's enjoying it and probably needs a little more than my hand can provide so I pick up the strap. The folded end, as I assume everyone knows, has quite a bit more "give" to it – that is, it gives way, not it gives more – so we start with that and heavy as it is it delivers quite a smack, then more smacks, then a lot of smacks. Jill is really enjoying this so I turn the strap around to give it even more impact, ease up a bit and start with that. Apparently that's even better.

In Which Case I'm Replaceable/ Disposable/ Fully Action-Posable

You know, please don't ask me to have favorites – I play with a lot of different women who are a lot of different types of women – younger, older, long-time friends and new acquaintances, emotional, detached, chaste, erotic, discipline, role play, and just for fun. Some are in shallow scenes and others let me get into their heads; some have gym-hardened butts and others have pillow-soft bottoms. So when I say I like one thing it doesn't mean I dislike the opposite – just that that one trait happened to add to the experience this particular time.

Having said that and ready to make a sweeping generalization, you know what I like about moms? They're so grounded. Yes, I may be in the Scene for the drama of it, but I appreciate the way that nothing at the party is going to affect them all that much – it's not that big a part of their life, it's not their identity, they're not asking me to validate their existence. And I think this frees them to enjoy playing more. In my experience moms play with you the way they want or they find someone else – after all, if you're not looking for a relationship. just a guy with a strong arm and a reasonable amount of respect, there's no lack of candidates.

As I just said, early in the party one of the two of you ought to have half a lick of sense, but the truth is it doesn't really work that way. One voice in my head is saying "this will not be good for later" while the other is saying "we're enjoying it, don't stop now." So as long as I seem to be getting positive biofeedback, I tend to keep going. And even though Jill is over my knee – so it's not like I'm putting my weight into it – I know I'm using this strap pretty hard. Okay, really hard. But without broken skin or visible bruising... At some point concern overtakes enjoyment and I figure I'd better step it down – and down – and down. We come in for a nice soft landing.

Afterward I'm showing off my closet full of floggers – which doesn't work out too well because it's so far back in the corner that even with the closet door open no one is seeing them. Hanging, too, with my floggers is my favorite cane – there are about 18 out in the open of various lengths, thicknesses and handles but this one is a soft rattan core with a suede-wrapped grip, once again cheap but nice. Jill tells me she's afraid of canes, which is understandable, considering their prominence in school-discipline and heavy, heavy punishment scenes and stories, so I try to explain that there's different ways to use them, like in my essay "Uncanny Caning," if you read that. Anyway, I offer to show her how it's done, later in the weekend...

At the same time I'm thinking, with the spanking she just had, one of two things is most likely – either she will be so so sensitive that she can't hold still (not that that's a big requirement) or we start so slowly and play so long that she basically won't feel anything at all anyway. I know a year ago in Palm Springs I was playing with Sue (Moonchild) and by the time we were done I'm waling on her with a long thick cane and she's saying "mmmm, good, good, a little higher..."

Back in the party swirl, people keep arriving – not only is it an open party but I do know a lot of people – and the room's not getting overloaded so I guess people are leaving as well, sometimes as couples (always good). We're set up to go right up till five when the Newbie Dinner takes off, though I could imagine some people maybe haven't checked in yet or need to get ready so maybe they leave early. But at this point things are still on the upswing which is about when I see some people picking up the pledge class paddle and encouraging a young woman K to use it on Ron from San Diego. If I get a chance I'll have to ask her how it worked. In any case this quickly gets young K involved in a series of toppings with many serieses of toys.

And Your Name Is?

About this time I do something that seems to happen about once a year (okay, insert your own punchline here) – which is play with someone I have truly just met. If you were at the Vendor's Fair, Anya is the pretty young lady behind the table with Whypdancer at CanesforPain – long brown hair and what I'd call "watching" eyes – you know she knows everything that's going on. She, too, points out the seeming lack of leather toys – I'll have to do something about that for next time, these women's point is well-taken – especially since I left the strap back on the bed. Rather than chase it down, however, we decide – okay, she decides – to just play by hand, which is fine because even though I've just discussed three scenes, in reality they've been spread over two-plus hours, it's not like I'm going to wear out my hand.

I guess Anya plays at parties back home pretty regularly and really knows what she's doing – she's wearing those party panties that rise so high in the back there's no question that they should stay on, she really does want to pace herself, and – despite the fact that she, too, is playing with someone she just met, albeit in public – she's both very clear and very cautious about exactly what we do. On top of that, though, once it's clear that I'm not going to do anything she doesn't want she relaxes completely across my lap. She also reveals that she met a guy back home that she's supposed to call while she's getting spanked, though maybe not right now. When we finish I let her know that we'll track down all of Cat's nice leather toys to play later, if she'd like, which she's interested in if Cat is up for it.

By this time about three-quarters of the guests are new again, so I'm back to encouraging people to come in and putting out more drinks. Next year what would be nice is big bowls of ice with the drinks in them, to make them a lot more accessible. Anyway.

Reality Check

And I said I was going to focus on the positives, but I do want to throw this in – K is clearly a switch, since she's sort of school-uniform dressed but has been waling on some of the guys, so I ask her if she'd like to bottom but she asks me to wait until she's in a skirt, not shorts. I only bring this up because this report makes it sound like I'm batting 1.000 when that's not true at all – not only do some women say no (sometimes almost preemptively), there are some that I've told, after being put off, that I'll leave it up to them to ask me; some that I know by now not to ask at all; and some that I can't seem to strike the connection I like to have before I even ask.

The Ladies of Punishment Book

After our little get-together in the afternoon Cat and I opted to miss the Newbie Dinner and make other plans. While I think the dinner is a great idea and a great way to meet people before walking into the party, it's a little bit big which is not the conditions Cat or I feel best under. So we had planned to meet Mark Fisher and Iris, who blogs under the Punishment Book (www.punishmentbook.org) and figure out somewhere to go. When we met down in the lobby they were accompianied by Mija and Pablo (Mija also writes for Punishment Book, as well as www.eltercerojo.net) and another friend, Davo, who is probably the ultimate party veteran (mostly BDSM, sounds like) who is finally checking out SL for the first time. Besides her blogging we met Mija at the last party and had a lot of fun with her there, though Pablo is very shy and we didn't see him then – I had met both of them several years ago before Cat was coming to the parties with me.

In any case, as we began our wander in search of dinner inspiration, Mir came up in the other direction and we shanghaied her into our group. Apparently we hadn't sampled enough of the Sushi Café last night and most of our party was new so we headed back there, sort of reviving the party tradition of eating every meal at the same restaurant.

Cat got a little more adventuresome – Thursday night she had had one or two of my California rolls along with her tempura but Friday she checked out the sushi sampler – and I switched from sushi and sashimi to the seafood platter – salmon, scallops, and shrimp in a ginger-soy glaze – both delicious. Mir managed to find a second kind of spinach salad to try, as soon as we could figure out which one she'd had the night before! Davo had something interesting – I was sure I was going to remember the name – it was some sort of soup-type dish, a very large bowl with medallions of beef in a clear broth and these large bright green leaves.

Of course any time you eat right before an event it always seems to wrap up the same way – everyone finishes their food about half-an-hour before you need to leave and the rest of the time – every second of it – is spent trying to get and pay the bill. The Sushi Café didn't disappoint in this regard, either, so when we left we were right back on schedule.

Okay, let's check our watches – it's 7:00 Friday night and the party is about to begin!

Shadow Lane Party Report, April 2005

2007-08-13T20:17:00.000-07:00

Here's an editor's note now that I'm done: I didn't intend for these to read like "The Memoirs of a Casanova," please don't get the idea that I have – or think I have – some weird mystical power over women or some super-spy-secret musk-like scent that would make them lose their senses. The women are both attractive and nice, I had a good time – a great time, in fact. But there were a dozen or more attractive women I would have played with, given the chance, some of whom I didn't even speak to, and probably twenty or more hours each day when I wasn't playing but still enjoying myself…

Okay, I wanted to record every detail start to finish and maybe I will eventually but Erica is demanding results and I've always felt when it comes to ShadowLane parties she has a certain right to do so (since she makes them so enjoyable for us)…

Then I thought maybe I'd just hit the highlights – getting to see and play with some friends like I'd been looking forward to, playing with not one but two video vixens on the very brink of stardom, not one but two truly funny elevator stories, making friends with a whole collection of new couples, getting to play and visit with Dolores for twelve minutes, actually getting a Sadie Hawkins invitation, finally getting to play with the irrepressible Anaia, and meeting and flogging the lovely Geldana… glossing over the absence of five of my favorite women (I didn't realize I had so many favorite women that five could be missing!)… editing out a few perfect moments not suitable for posting…

But, of course, some must precede others, or my audience would be lost, so…

We've got a suite for this party for a couple of reasons: one, gas is $3 a gallon and I work for an oil company, I have to consume conspicuously. Also, we want to have people over if we want, even though we don't actually have a party planned. And I don't really like the confines of a hotel room for multiple days, and with Cat and my opposite schedules one and usually both of us is always in there… so we did.

Before I get to Friday night, I have to say that this is a little different party for me, I guess they've been moving in this direction but it gets continually more noticeable. At my first party four years ago, I stayed at a different hotel, I showed up around 8 on Friday night (not wanting to be the first person there), practically every person was a stranger despite my networking, and, even though I wasn't desperate to play, every single interaction was fraught with significance – who likes me? Who doesn't? What do I need to be saying or avoiding saying? I left Sunday afternoon with a flurry of goodbyes and a page full of e-mail addresses.

This party, I show up early on Thursday to a room that's been booked for months, see Ann before we even get to the check-in, have dinner with friends, and catch up with Moonchild (Sue) even before the scheduled party that night. I still really enjoy meeting new people but there's no element of competition anymore, which is fine by me. If we don't get a chance to play, there'll be plenty more opportunities… (especially when they live in Southern California…)

So Friday night we go to the Vendor's Faire, which has a Western theme and of course we run into everyone we know. I start with Ian the London Tanner because Cat has her heart set on a leather paddle and a lot of his stuff can sell out fast and no one else's will do… Is Cat naughty? This is how naughty, she's buying this paddle with her birthday money from her mom…

Speaking of money, we get small bonuses at work paid out in gift checks – like traveler's checks. I always save mine for party admission – I mean, these bonuses are supposed to be a motivator, got to spend them on something you really want, don't you?

Ian has a very attractive new date, smart and classy, I won't use her name, but he's the first of many guys we know to be paired up for this party. Cat's wearing a skort so her skirt can come up and she still has like bicycle shorts on under it. So we test a paddle or two just on her shorts – I always ask first, even if I know it's okay, but Ian says go ahead, go ahead. She can't decide – not because she wants more testing – one's lighter and stingier and the other one's heavier but I know that before too long the light one will be too light so I say go with the heavy one. Then the heavy one has like a birthmark on the leather that the light one doesn't – I'm about to do some more "testing," and believe me, Ian's got more than just little paddles… so the heavy one it is.

I've put on some Western clothes for this, a farm-boy plaid shirt and cowboy boots which I actually own, and I've just gotten a pair of quirts so I'm carrying one, since it goes with the theme. Quirts are terribly severe so I explain this one away as being "a hearing aid for a brat."

I mention the Western theme because we almost immediately run into Brandon, dressed in a black leather vest and a cowboy hat, not even looking like a Village-People refugee like my description makes it sound. Brandon just got old enough to attend parties a year or so ago and he's a friend of Cat's; he's also been already captured by a very lovely new lady who is in this fabulous saloon girl costume – I can't do it justice but it's this shimmery light brown metallic fabric with lace trim and netting around the top, some gatherings at the bottom, low-rise heeled black boots, flowers behind each ear… and, rather than bring it up later, authentic-looking beige bloomers - I hope they aren't silk, she was getting spanked on them – and red fishnet tights.

So we hang out with them for awhile and when it gets late people start to make some plans. Dana Sprecht is handing out licks to one and all in the middle of the dance floor, and Brandon and his lady, plus our room-neighbors and two other new couples decide all eight of them will get in line. Once they're done, though, they're sort of thinking maybe a room party is not what they're looking for, so the five of us couples are going up to our suite instead. With Brandi and her guy we have the adjoining room, too. We add James and his very lovely but very shy date on the way out of the Vendor's Faire.

I have some liquor, no mixers, and the snacks we didn't eat in the car on the drive in. We spend five minutes straightening the bed and stuffing clothes out of sight and I take my two toy bags and dump them on the five-foot by five-foot coffee table. So much for party planning. Nobody cared in the least.

So you know how it is – the women, pretty new to all this, walk in, take one look at the table and say – I wonder what that feels like? And that… and that… and that… but I'm a little reserved in party situations to start with and most everyone else is all the more so. Brandon gives it his best effort, suggesting some party games, but I'm worried that some of the women might not want to be put in the position of playing with someone not of their choice (like me, since I am quite a bit older than some of them). So, since we are all sitting next to our dates, I suggest we just start with that. As I said, Cat's wearing a skort so I spank her over those.

So here we are, sitting in a big circle around this big, toy-laden coffee table, each spanking our dates with some degree of modesty. At least, I assume everyone is, I'm a little too occupied to look. But everyone seems to be enjoying that. Brandon has a new strap he's trying out some and then couple #3 had a newly-purchased old razor strop so she moves over to the bed and they try it there. Even through her jeans she feels it enough for some priceless expressions.

Brandi, it turns out, is a pretty heavy player – I think she's making a video with Dallas this week, if that gives you an idea, so something of an exhibitionist as well. They're using the area between the bed and the windows for a little privacy so that she can take her jeans down but then after she's been caned quite a lot everyone wants to see and she wants to show off how little she marks. She's really cute, whenever she isn't actually being swatted she sits on her boyfriend's thigh, looking at him with this mooning, longing, when-can-I-get-spanked-next look on her face.

We do have a moment of panic when couple #4 is using the bed-window area and Cat gets out the camera to take a picture of the view of the Strip (we're on the 27th floor). The poor girl hears "camera" and "view" and figures it was time to stop and check things out but it's all cool.

Besides some playing, I know everyone's sitting around completely enjoying the company and the fact that they can talk about spanking freely without worrying what someone else will think. I can just feel the women indulging themselves in the relaxed atmosphere.

Then three other couples join us – Sue, Steve Fuller, Ann and Ed, Anaia, and a guy I don't know – he might be with Anaia or maybe he's just "drafting." Anyway, I "finally" get to play with Anaia – when I say finally, I'm thinking I've known her for over three years by now, things just never worked out before. I think everyone knows her – very cute, very petite, very English, with the typical English wicked wit, a tongue so sharp she doesn't need a steak knife. Even so, I'm amazed to get her over my knee and find that she's all the more petite "in person" – or "in position." Whatever she does to keep in shape, it's working, because her bottom has that perfectly smooth tone of a dancer – apparently underlain by a really thick layer of Kelvar. As always I start slowly, but even when I'm spanking the daylights out of her I can barely elicit a reaction. She's polite to me, which I appreciate, but makes some witticism about someone else, which I attempt to make her regret – somewhat hopelessly. We must be in an odd position because I'm literally panting like I've run a marathon, and while Anaia probably evokes this reaction a lot, it's a bit unusual for me. This convinces someone – I think it was lovely lady #3 – that I needed some assistance and provides some kind of wicked toy to help me out.

That changes things a bit. Anaia goes from pretending to be compliant to emulating an all-in wrestler. One of the advantages of youth and fitness is that you can move every body part in a different direction – all at once! I'm spending as much effort on keeping her in range as I am on laying down the law, but at least she's getting what she needs. When I'm finished she tells me it "wasn't bad for a warm-up" – but she does it from out of arm's reach, I notice.

In "hindsight" I'm hoping I didn't shock too many of our guests by playing with someone not my partner – I hadn't realized at the time that no one else had done so…

As we all know – and are reminded of one million times – Ann has a video shoot on Monday and she can't be spanked properly since she can't have any bruises. Somehow she thinks this will allow her to be a total brat all weekend with no consequences… like tops are no more resourceful that that! I've got a rubber strap that feels heavy but doesn't bruise at all, as Ann should be attesting to here… She's calling out "Steve! Hubby! Help me!" and he's saying "Don't bruise! Don't bruise!" Everyone monitors it and says I'm not using the strap very hard – she can tell – but she does NOT like it. Someone is sitting between us and James and his lady so I stand up and put her over my shoulder so they can check, too, but that doesn't last too long, I don't think Ann likes that, either! This is her third spanking from me in about twenty-four hours but it isn't like she's giving in much. She comes up with a new block that throws me off quite a bit and she says she'll use it in her video – and I tell her I'll be more than ready for it next time. So we'll see.

Some of the other ladies try out the rubber strap – this one was really crude, I didn't know how to cut and bevel rubber at the time – and they agree that Ann's protests were well-founded, but if we ever do see her report, she will have to admit that she had no bruises, and we didn't even use it wet like you're supposed to.

The next evening I see couple #4 in the elevator lobby and he's asking about it. Sue had said I needed to use it on Ann again and Ann said then Sue needed it too – so it's in my pocket. They're easy to make, I just wish I had a better one to give him, so now he has it. I'd love to hear what his lady thinks of it… though I've got a pretty good idea what she thinks of me… but she's probably not bruised, at least…

Sue's a little more private than our video star, so we wait for a lot of people to clear out… of course Brandi and beau just close the door behind themselves. Sue and I played the night before but when you live on opposite coasts you have to play when you get the chance (actually she was very patient with me all weekend, we should have played twice as much). I happen to know where her Moonchild screen name comes from and it's actually not a reference to her lovely bottom, which is, however, as round and pale as a full moon maybe fifteen minutes over the horizon. Or it is when we start. I take great pains to remedy that – or maybe I should say I give great pains… without the pressure of an audience we're able to have a nice, slow, long spanking that we'd both been looking forward to for weeks. And Sue is a smart girl – she knows when to make a sharp remark – and when not to! More later, believe me…

I no longer know what qualifies as an early night, but even with the party starting late, Cat and I have the room to ourselves by 1:00 or 1:30, it seems – or almost to ourselves. Brandi had said that the night before they'd interrupted their play to listen to us…

So that's the Friday night set-up to funny elevator story #1: the next night three of these same couples meet at our room before going down to Bob and Ariel's Saturday night blow-out. Dallas and his friend Vegas – a statuesque woman who I assume is a switch – are with us since he's courting Brandi for a shoot. We go out to the elevator and someone must be misbehaving because they're told they'll be getting it as soon as we get on. Well, that encourages all ten of us to see who can get the most swats between the 27th and 24th floors. The doors close, Dallas officiates and calls "begin!" Then the doors open – on 26! Three guys are standing there somewhat agape. They decide to catch the next elevator.

You know, I do think from time to time about how we must seem – not to outsiders, but to a lot of the newcomers. This is Thursday evening. Several of us are standing around in front of the Terrace Lounge, our meeting place at the base of the elevators. Most everyone has met each other and we're talking, though one young guy seems to just be watching from one of the circle of chairs. I'm standing opposite him, then Ann comes up.
Her: "So I checked in."
Me: "You want to go?"
And we're off. It must be a little confusing.

Okay, if anyone is still reading… this is the highlights. The report I wanted to write would be twenty times this long… so, forward! Forward!

Twelve minutes with Dolores. At first I called her The White Rabbit because she always seemed to be late for a very important date. Now I think of her as a quicksilver butterfly. You can hold her in the palm of your hand but if you try to close your hand she's gone. She's on a short schedule, coming in late and leaving early, and I also keep some sort of schedule, so of course they clash. I don't get to Saturday afternoon at Harry's, though I hear it was great, and I'm not sure how I miss her Saturday night except that I'm surrounded by attractive and fascinating ladies. So I beg her to let me take her to the airport – it's so easy from the Stardust if you have a car – and since we aren't going to have another chance, she relents.

Eleven AM she calls me. She has to pack and print her ticket and she'll be ready to play, check out, and go. This is fine. Honestly, I figure she'll pack, print, check out and go – but I can talk with her on the way to the airport, that's the important thing. Now I have to explain to you that the cell phone reception near the elevators in the Stardust is lousy, so we all have to be careful, especially if the schedule's tight.

Since I'm up and about and going to have to go out I wander down to the lobby for the needed coffee. There I see Dana talking to this absolute Goddess who I won't describe in case she doesn't look like Cat in one way or another. So I'm trying to catch Dana's eye, hoping for an introduction and when I don't get one I say something to her when they're finished. Turns out she's a photographer shooting spanking scenes because she likes to look at them… and very friendly. I happen to be getting very interested in photography (honest!) so she joins me for coffee.

After a bit I see Dolores heading toward the business center so I run her down to make sure she knows where I am, in case my cell phone doesn't pick up her signal. Then I come back and resume our conversation, figuring I'm about to head to the airport.

Then something happens that seems to happen a lot to me – I wish someone would explain it so I'd know if I'm doing something wrong or should just not worry about it – this guy comes along and completely hijacks this woman… okay, they have a shoot they're going to do but I can't seem to get a word in edgewise. Oh well, I wasn't thinking it was going anywhere from here, maybe that's why.

In any case Dolores comes by and I get up to leave, looking toward the parking lot – until she says "Okay, it's quarter till. I have to check out by noon. Let's go, right now." This is actually pretty typical. Camera girl decides to ride up with us and Dolores's reaction to her is the same as mine but she leaves us at our floor.

So we walk down to Dolores's room and the clock says 11:48. She says she's got to get out by 12 because she already got a late check-out and doesn't want to be charged for another day. You can get a lot of spanking into 12 minutes. I have to post this somewhere else, too, where you don't have to dig for it but she says tell the guys that when they spank their pinky should be at the undercurve of the bottom. Just so you know. Believe it or not we get about the right amount of spanking in and then she jumps up and says "gotta go," grabs her rolling suitcase and we close the door behind us at noon.

Leaving her at the airport is a little hard but she wants to get through security and they won't let me accompany her, plus I have a 2:00 brunch scheduled and I want to see Cat before then. She lives less than two hours away so we promise to get together – just like we did a year ago. Like a bead of quicksilver, all lovely curves but you can't see inside, no matter how you press or prod or even divide it.

2:06 – another favorite person I never see. She claims to be a switch and I believe her, since she certainly could use multiple spankings. She says guys are always coming out to her, telling her they've never revealed their sub-side to anyone. For some reason she wonders why. The night before when I wrote down her number not only did she check it to make sure I got it right, she asked how I'd remember it was hers and insisted I label it properly. Six minutes after I'm supposed to have called her she's standing in front of me asking why the call is late (I was looking for cell phone reception). Oh by the way she says she saw a lot of you at the 12:30 Mass with her.

She, her husband, and I retire to the inside bar for a drink and to discuss my writing – at least we would if we could keep on topic. She's both an exceptional critic and an inspiration. We have a great, great meeting.

I was about to write "now to brag a little" but I realize this whole report sounds like one long boast, with all its beautiful women and fantastic scenes but anyway… we were discussing self image and how many men and women see themselves differently – specifically, women are harder on themselves and men are more generous with themselves. Five minutes later she's saying "I've heard good reports about you as a spanker" and I'm thinking "well, that's nice" and she continues with "and no, I won't tell you from who(m)." I was like, from who? I just assumed it was a universal acclimation.

Gracious readers always say "thanks for the detail, I feel like I'm really there." Except that right now you're saying geez, what is this guy's problem, I don't know what day it is or if it's day or night… well, that's part of feeling like you're really there, believe me…

Sunday night I get to thinking about what a strong sexual vibe there is throughout the party. I've said before that something that's very noticeable - especially in Palm Springs when almost everyone is there for the party – is how happy everyone is, going around with big (big) smiles on their faces basically all the time. But there's something even beyond that. Men and women look at each other frankly and appraisingly but approvingly and appreciatively. Especially by Sunday night you can tell how many people are comfortable with how many others, ready to touch and be touched. What brings this to mind, actually, is that Sunday night a convention hit town, some kind of broadcast technology, which is a profession heavy with young single guys. As I'm walking out of the bar with three lovely ladies there's half a dozen guys staring glassy-eyed at the TV and I think, they have to be wondering how to jump from one group to the other – I sure would be. Don't get me wrong – I'm into the scene totally for my love of spanking, and I understand how and why women hate the "Will-Spank-For-Sex" guys, but if I were one of this other group I know I'd be thinking, whatever they're doing, I could do, couldn't I?

Hey, I got asked on Sadie Hawkins! Dee is a tremendously generous person, opening her suite every night to one and all, organizing the newbie dinner, I think she picked up the Brat's Breakfast for Krissygirl… and she managed to lose her voice Thursday night (not that that's ever stopped anyone from talking) and missed her own party, round 1. On top of all that she invited me to play – it's been years, literally, since a small party at EllieO's, I think she was pretty new back then… a Dee-lightful brat but also a popular one, by the time I take her across my knee she says "go easy, I have bruises" and I tell her "well, you must've been bad, then." I really don't play that hard in front of people but if her bottom stings like my palm, I think that's plenty hard enough. At least, when I get that ringing sensation that goes all the way up my arm and into my ears, it'd better be doing some good. And yes, I manage to avoid the bruises, I think they're mostly where she isn't used to being spanked, you know?

Don't let me give everyone the wrong idea, I don't exclusively play lightly. A local woman I see sometimes was over Thursday (that is, a week after the party) and had really done something wrong. With the help of a lot of lotion and some other skin-saving techniques she ended up getting four really difficult spankings and four more pretty difficult ones, among others…

By the way I saw the absolutely cutest brat at Dee's – she's on ShadowLane, new but seems to know everyone – Irish like right off the boat, with the perfect Irish smile, her upper lip has a great arch, I don't suppose she can pout even if she wants to… anyway, just a side note.

Funny story about Ann, I know she won't mind – she's about to shoot her video and we're running lines (script, not coke) down at the coffee bar. This guy comes by, sort of new, good looking, just her type, I know she knows who I mean. So he interrupts to say what a pleasure it was to watch her play, to which I respond with a plug for her video and he promises to buy one or more. The two of them are complaining that they switched off the country music before it was time to dance - like, to something people might like, if you ask me, but…

and someone must've already mentioned Ann's Saturday night ensemble – a confectionary peach – gown? – big dress with a Victorian design and petticoats or a hoop skirt or some kind of massive underpinnings. She was unquestionably a vision… but there's work to be done and I interrupt new guy to go back to working her lines. Don't worry, Ann, actually I do know what I'm doing, no guy has ever been disenchanted by an actress needing to work.

Back on the subject of actresses and Saturday night, you have to visualize this… Erica's in this little black dress, short – I suppose so it can come up most easily – showing off her shoulders and arms as well, and it's got these "vents" in it, little triangular-shaped openings on either side of her navel, gauze-covered but see-through, accentuating her figure I guess just in case it needs help… very nice, especially for those of us who occasionally see her from the front…

We have seldom, if ever, managed to sit with Erica and John for the dinner but this year we had our best chance ever – Cat has a long history of being late, late to the point of having trouble finding a seat (late to the point of having trouble needing a seat, in fact) so John tells us the dinner is a half-hour earlier than it's scheduled. At the same time Cat has turned over a new leaf and manages to get ready "on time" – in other words, for once we're there before the doors open. My apologies to Ann and Sue, we also got them there slightly early (not as early as us, thankfully!) Alas, things still didn't really work out, because we had an entire table of people we were sitting with so we staked out a large area on one side of the dance floor and Erica and John had many other people to be with so they were across the room (just like when we show up late!). And I'm not going to apologize about the cliques at ShadowLane, I think they/ we are a very open, welcoming group, but it's just impossible to interact with 300 people at once – we were at a ten-person table and I couldn't really converse with all of them, and Brandi and her guy were at the table behind my chair, so they could only talk to a few of us, and then it was an effort… plus even in our small group people have different goals, especially the single people and the couples.

So we're sitting at dinner, Cat looking straight ahead, lifting each bite to her mouth with the most regal of manners… actually it's her choker… for Christmas I bought her this choker-and-bracelets set, the choker is like a decorated slave collar, leather, a little wide, pointed at the throat, with beads dripping from it all around. There's matching bracelets but she was wearing these gauntlets, I guess would be the right name for them, instead.

The collar is very special, we exchanged vows over it, she said "I can't bend my neck, I swear I'm going to get you for this" and I promised she'd behave or find some way to bend somewhere at least… other than that it was just jewelry. Along with the black choker she's in this corset-front dress that looks like kink couture but we're busted by the bus girl the minute we walk in, she says "I love your dress, I have one just like it only it has gathers at the bottom, I got it at Hot Topic." Denis would have talked her into joining us after her shift but I'm not that smooth.

Anyway, the gauntlets, they were really the highlight of the ensemble, black elbow-to-wrist coverings with criss-crossed pink ribbons that matched the strings of the corset. Okay now I have to tease her a bit, we go to the store to get her some ribbon – actually for the corset to match the sleeves, rather than vice-versa – we find the right stuff and she says she needs twelve yards. That seems excessive to me and I look around to try to find an example of how long that is but she says she's used nine before and it was barely long enough. Now I may have fallen off a turnip truck but it wasn't yesterday, I know it's pretty senseless to argue. So we try to get twelve yards. Except they only have eight – in fact, there's only ten on a new roll. So they search for another roll, they're sure they had a big stack just recently, so many that they put them away someplace else until maybe some crazy lady would buy them – now they can't find them. Maybe they had a whole asylum stop by yesterday.

So we look at a thinner ribbon, it's eight yards to the roll and they have two uncut rolls so we get those and I figure we'll spice them together somehow. Meanwhile I say to get the wide ribbon, it's like $2.50 for the whole thing – except it isn't even eight yards, when she straps it out it's only four and a half. So for a buck and a half I have them throw that in. We now have over twenty yards of pink ribbon. The front of the corset is eighteen inches by twelve inches. If anyone wants to make a dress out of ribbon, call us.

As Erica said, the banquet is fabulous – this one is by far the best. The desserts look really good but I can't even have any and I hear several other people saying the same thing, we are just too full and that's without thinking about playing later. Our table has the usual suspects, much like the night before, with couple #3 next to us. I guess this is his second party but he met his girlfriend in just a conventional way and it turned out she was totally up for it – how cool is that? On top of that, this young lady looks like Diana – not the late Princess of Wales but the Greek woman in the pictures with the dogs. No, she's not Greek at all (I wouldn't think), she just looks like the pictures – on the tall side, athletic but in a totally good way; thick, thick blonde hair and wide eyes that look like they're gazing over the horizon. Which is totally funny because it turns out she's really near-sighted. If you want to know what the guys look like, ask Cat.

So Brandon, who admittedly is pretty cute, and his lady want to dance so she goes up and requests some Salsa. You know how some guys say they're switches when they're total bottoms? Well I think some women masquerade as switches when they're top through and through. I mean, we hear Salsa, now. And we can see why, the two of them really put on a show – apparently they met at Salsa lessons and turned out she had checked out the scene a bit, too! If this was one of Eve's novels I wouldn't believe it. So she's out there in her schoolgirl plaid skirt, twirling around with it flying out like a tutu… she really has lovely legs… then Denis's date, who is dressed the same (and glad she wasn't the only one!) joins in for a salsa-a-trois.

Speaking of Denis and Kasha, his date – the only word for her is delectable. Even compared to that fabulous dessert table she has some definite mouth-watering quality about her. A petite Ukrainian woman with a thick French accent and a designation of "Other" which she explains enigmatically as "my kink is a different one." How tasty is this woman? An unnamed friend, being spanked by Denis with her head in Kasha's lap, claims that she had to make him stop before she "violated her marital vows." Her audience sympathizes.

Now I don't even know what day it is but "Traci" shows up at like 10 PM one night. I'll admit I'm tremendously shallow and even if I didn't like her a lot I probably would have wanted to play with her anyway, just because she's got that "Almost Famous" buzz like an early Kate Hudson… mischievous, too… the fact is I do like her a lot, she has these deep, deep brown eyes and a gravity that just captures 100% of my attention. So I'm not only shallow I'm totally ADD (obviously) and not everyone does that. Plus, I think she and I both relate best to people one-on-one rather than in a group setting so I feel like we have something in common.

I first met her two years ago at the Alexis Park but only for a minute – and at the next two parties we talked but I didn't get to play with her until another party, which was great. Then last summer in Palm Springs we sort of missed each other and you know, I can never tell if it's intentional or just bad timing. Yes, guys do keep track of this sort of thing.

So I ask her if she wants to play one last time before she gets mobbed six guys deep by admiring fans, and she says she'd love to but with the video shoot coming up she has to be careful… I figure she's blowing me off but then she says so let's go, she knows I won't go overboard, which is cool… we go over to the couch and I put her over my lap, she's wearing jeans and a silver thong, I can see. I don't mind spanking over jeans but she's got her room key in her back pocket, that has to go. And these parties get crowded, we have to maneuver her feet out of Chelsea Pfeiffer's face, which CP appreciated… but once we get down to the task at hand… I don't know if she's been toning up for the video like Ann has – I guess I would, too – but she seems to be in better shape than ever. A natural tomboy, she's got long, narrow runner's legs with just enough of a bottom to keep her pleasantly feminine, and a little waist, so it looks like her jeans would slide right down, though I am pointedly informed that they do not. So she has to get up long enough to unfasten them. I'm sure the video will show that she looks even better without them.

I continued to spank her, on her bare bottom now, until she gets a sort of dark red. I'd been being really careful with Ann and Traci is at least as fair, I don't really think I could bruise with my hand but I've been surprised before and when it's too late it's too late. So I tell her we'd better stop and I just rub in what I've already done, to which she has no objection at all. Ten minutes later she's accosting me because I still have her room key in my pocket, pardon me for forgetting but my mind was on other things (I told you I was distractible).

You know I'm sitting here thinking, there's lots of women in the scene that I counsel about hearing and accepting compliments. A lot of us get compliments but dismiss them or explain them away or listen for any kind of qualification that maybe we're not perfect and that's what we remember. I'm starting to wonder if I do that – if I do you'd think I'd have less confidence and maybe in some situations I do. What brings it to mind is that Traci made it a point to say how nice it was to play, later, well after we were done, and that was nice. I mean, people always say that but I think sometimes we (I) don't hear it.

Back to the report.

As everyone always says, Bob and Ariel's is the highlight of the party, but to me it's more like Bob and Ariel. Once we got to know one another Bob has always made a point to hunt me down to say hello and please stop by, even though we usually see each other within minutes of arriving – this year I ran into him around four on Thursday. Of course, two hours away from home I'd remembered that I had bought Ariel a present and left it home – I put it with the stuff I usually pack (so I wouldn't forget it) and then brought different stuff – how I forgot something after loading the car down to the gunwales, whatever those are, is beyond me. And I've been busy since I've been home so it goes in the mail tomorrow.

You know how it is, you're walking through someplace and you see something that is just perfect for one unique person – and Ariel is definitely a unique person… we've shared some very enjoyable meals with them, in addition to their parties. Bob gave Cat quite a spanking with a leather paddle/strap – I complained that she always tells me she can't play that hard but she said with the help of some fine down-home bourbon and one layer of protection (she doesn't wear shorts at home) she can take a little more – and that it was louder than it was hard. I think Mark was the only other guy to spank Cat, and with Toluca Girl having to stay home, no girls…

Must've been Saturday night, we showed up at Bob and Ariel's with eight other people and got them settled, or so I thought, then Cat went off with Mark and Katie and I left with Sue to find Dee's party. When we got back everyone was gone except Vegas – I'd known Brandi and her boyfriend were in their room because Sue and I went by there to play, I don't know if Dallas was with them, for all I know they were already filming or maybe just rehearsing. But before too long Brandon and his lady return with digital pictures of her topping the female half of couple #3 and then f.h.o.c.#3 topping her. Cat returns and goes off with them to top Brandon. The four of us intend to get together but it was a busy night and they going to try to leave early Sunday, but they live close by so we'll see.

Yes, I skipped a step, between Point A and Point B Sue did find herself across my knee with half my toy bag being applied to her Point C. She claims that for some reason her pain tolerance is really down so eventually I switch to a really light paddle but it stings which is just as bad as hurting. It's really loud, however, and I tell her that Brandi's listening next door so she does shout "help! He's killing me!" in hopes that it will preclude my needing to smack her so loudly. We never did ask Brandi… but you know, I don't know if it's the gradual approach or she just quits complaining but I have this new two-layer strap – it's doubled but I use the "open" ends so it's really very heavy – and she manages okay, even for a while. We'd talked about playing really heavily and I brought a paddle that would have kept an entire reform school under control but we never get to use it. Maybe next time.

Back at Bob and Ariel's I finally catch up with a woman I'll call Geldana, not that it has anything to do with her, it's just a name I've given her. We'd had dinner together the night before, when we met, since she's a friend of Mark's date, Katie. I'd had ribs which make a mess and she's giving me a hard time as she is wont to do so I promise to wash my hands before I spank her for which she says thanks. But then I lose track of her that night because of our guests and she was not amongst them.

Here's another person I felt very comfortable with from the first minute, I don't exactly know why. She's very literal like a lot of the scene community and very left-brained, she claims, where as I am more mixed-brain as you can tell from this report. Plus maybe it was the party but my brain was not firing on both cylinders whereas hers certainly seemed to be. Maybe she has a very short personal distance or something.

And here's an example along with funny elevator story #2. I have a collection of t-shirts – my latest is from American Eagle and says "Paddywhackers Rugby Team." Everyone's seen the one that has a kayak in whitewater on the front with "Life's short…" – on the back, in 4-inch high letters it says PADDLE HARD. Then there's Bettie Paige by Olivia with a red quirt in her teeth – the teenaged clerk in Starbuck said she liked that one… and one for a brat that instead of saying "No Fear" says "No Fair"… and the ubiquitous S.W.A.T. … so I have this one from Hot Topic, I love it because it's obviously a mainstream t-shirt from the mall, probably Happy Bunny if you know who she is…

I've got it on Sunday morning and I'm heading down for a cup of coffee. I get on the elevator where there's a young guy and two young women who are not with the party and the one girl says to me, in a perfectly loud voice, "Do you mind if I touch your butt?"

Her friends look like they've gone into shock and one of them says "Jennifer! Have you lost it!?! He's a total stranger!" And Jennifer is saying "His shirt! That's what his shirt says!" (I told her "not at all but thanks for asking first.")

I've got this shirt on and I'm wandering by the pool where Geldana is sitting with Katie and Mark and OTK David and she takes one look at it and says "No." Nice and direct.

So as I said, I finally catch up with her at Bob and Ariel's right around closing time. Everybody knows that when Bob says the party's over at 2 that we're going to be out in the hall by 2:01. He's very fair about it, he gives ten-minute and five-minute warnings but when it's time to move it's time to move. Anyway G's sitting next to me but she's promised to meet someone. I come really close to saying "well, you just got lucky" but it isn't the right remark for her, I don't think.

But this guy is who-knows-where with who-knows-who and I'm right here so she says well I'll go with you but you have to flog my back because that's what this guy was going to do. Okay, I can do that. Plus, see, she came by our room while I was at Ann's and saw the big blue suede flogger laying out and has been wanting to try it which is why I left it laying there.

I've always wanted to get a book on flogging and a decent flogger in case there is something I'm missing but come on, how hard can it be? Especially in this case, she's lying face down, it'd be like trying to miss the floor. (Okay, I just read where Erica says it's difficult so either pick your partners wisely or have them do something easy like this.)

I didn't go back and count but I know I keep saying this. Okay, Dolores is dark-haired and tan, Anaia has auburn hair and is tan, I think, and of course Cat has an olive complexion, but yes, Geldana is another tremendously fair woman, not only by birth but she lives up north where it's still winter – or always winter, for all I know, you're not getting me up there to find out. She's wearing a lightweight spaghetti-strap number in black for the Saturday night dinner and is trying to decide if it needs to come down from the top or up from the bottom. I immediately say down from the top which is easier though up from the bottom probably would have gotten it off of her entirely so maybe I'm not so smart. Anyway she lies face down across the foot of the bed with her dress around her waist right at the top of her black panties, reaches back and unfastens her strapless bra. Her dark blonde hair just touches the base of her neck and she holds it up for me. Her shoulders and back are bare and barely dark enough to be called ivory.

We had looked at the floggers, one is very stingy though light and the other is heavy, I've got nothing in between. The heavy one I made when I managed to come up with a large amount of electric blue suede, so it's soft and the tails are wide and square and that looked good to her. To get started I wrap it around my hand a couple of times to shorten it up where I can control it – hey, I don't pretend to be an artiste. Like I said, it's falling downward and it's heavy so it's not rocket science, I get a nice rhythm going and she relaxes into it. I let it out longer or shorten it up, bring it in from one side or the other, top or bottom. Standing below her hip I have my fingertips on the edge of her dress and the waistband of her panties and between the dry air and the whirling suede, with every third stroke a spark jumps between us. Later I move up toward her head and put my hand on her neck and ear just to be safe and continue from that angle. I stay away from her bottom, not just because I don't want to take a chance on snagging her dress but because she says it's sore from Bob strapping her and when I see them play again Sunday night I get an idea just how sore she must be, he whaled the tar out of her with a long perforated strap. But that was what she wanted then and this is what she wants now. I hope it doesn't hurt because it goes on for a long time and she just soaks it all up, not in a defiant way, just very calmly.

Well at some point I stop – how do people judge these things? It's not like she's at her limit or something so I just pick a time to stop. Even the suede has irritated her skin a little so I get some lotion and rub it between my hands to warm it up. Her back is still tense which is surprising because she's looked so relaxed the whole party but her life is very stressful. I knead out what I can… it's three AM as I walk her back to her room and go look for Cat…

Now the party's over and I'm convinced I'm getting soft spending all this time nesting with Cat so I go out and buy some wrist-weights. I'm thinking this way I can get a little exercise even while we're sitting around watching movies or something. They're just five pounds for the pair but I'm sure with extended use they'll make a difference. And as soon as I get them on I have to try smacking Cat – wow, what a difference! (she reports) Much, much more power – now this was through her dress since I am just testing it but she says it has a lot more thud, no sting, and I'm not even using it hard. If you want to try this, get the pellet-filled kind that lie flat against your wrist – the "weight-adjustable" ones have round lead bars. Sometimes the weight right at the base of your wrist can come in contact with her bottom and you want a flat surface there, not a corrugated one.

Is there more? Of course there's more – a trip to the public library for Cat's tax-filing extension form, some very enjoyable time at the Hard Rock casino, a showgirl looking just like I would have designed her myself given the chance… a Jacuzzi tub and separate, party-sized, glassed-in shower… a city with one thousand restaurants and fifty great ones while we eat more than ten meals in the Island Café… seeing the Belagio fountains from our window… wondering if the new Wynn casino will have a partner on the south end of the Strip, the Wynn-Dixie… more money spent on toys than on slots… another party in September and the need for a communal plan for next – when, January? Hope you can be there.

2007-08-13T20:12:00.000-07:00

Shadow Lane Party Report, April 2004

On the elevator at the Stardust they have a poster. It says “Joe Blow played $3 and won a $19 Million dollar jackpot!” Below that is a smiling picture of the second-luckiest man in Las Vegas.
I feel like something of a hypocrite. For years I’ve said that it’s not the bottom you spank, it’s the woman. But after a weekend of spanking a bevy of beauties I have to admit that it doesn’t hurt a bit if she’s fantastically good-looking along with being a wonderful person. It’s not that I’m some shallow person who only pays attention to great-looking women - first of all, I know some of them from on-line and I didn’t even know what they looked like when I met them, and secondly, they are smart, nice, and have great smiles, which are things I do look for in a friend. Still it has to be a little more than coincidence - I’ll guiltily admit that much...

Of course KittyCatBrat is to blame, like for everything... there’s nothing like having a cute girlfriend to make other women comfortable around you...

I don’t want to give the impression that this was by any means a typical party for me. I’ve been to several and enjoyed them all, played at some and not at others... so don’t let me sound like this happens all the time...

It was clear from the minute we checked in that this’d be a great party - it was obvious just by looks (or people I remembered from past parties) that everyone on our floor was there for the party - the woman at the desk said we had the floor below and two above as well and I asked her to put us right in the middle which she did. Plus half the floors we weren’t using were on a separate elevator.

Things got off to a fast start Friday night. I’m sure someone or everyone by now has related the story of this gaggle of brats running around trying to smack tops with varying degrees of bravado and success - let me put on the record that Toluca Girl by no means suggested that anyone try to smack Brushman but did they listen? noooooo... meanwhile some guy from the WWII vets association comes by and starts showing us this fraternity/sorority type paddle he has from 1964 or something. I think it was Toluca Girl, who is so sweet, or kinked, or something, lets him give her a smack. Pretty soon he’s giving a smack apiece to all the young brats, at least two of whom are dressed like schoolgirls... for instance, KittyCatBrat’s got her plaid skirt/white shirt and seamed stocking with garters showing... along with an identically dressed Hello Kitty doll hanging from her purse... and I’m thinking they’d better roll the paramedics because in a minute they’re going to have to jump start this guy’s heart... so I wasn’t the only lucky guy there.

oh and Ken and Connie come up and say hi to Erica while I’m standing there - they’re from back East and I assume involved in her video (okay, I was wrong). I don’t think they’re members here so I’ll be kind of vague but they are super nice people.

So of course the bunch of us shift up to Cyril’s as always afterwards since he has always thrown a Friday night couples party... a lot of really terrific regulars were not there and I really missed them but Cyril’s was still the great time it always is. Everyone was there, John and Erica, of course, and Toluca Girl, Anaia, Brushman, Ann, Indy Girl, Cat and me, plus a ton of ShadowLane members... meanwhile Lauren (who I still think of as Krissy Girl) was hosting the newcomers across the hall (next time we’ll make the newcomer’s dinner - really!).

So here’s where I explain that I don’t like to play in public; I never have (played, I mean) and now that I’ve tried it it was just like I expected. However... it is awfully hard to go to the ShadowLane weekend and not play at all... it’s not like most people have a whole lot else on their mind... the last three parties we didn’t play except for with each other which was great except that it put something of a crimp on the private parties which are entirely geared just toward that purpose. And you don’t want to leave with someone and go play for a long time and desert your date at a party (spanking or otherwise) so the only real option left is sort of to play in public.

If you got off to a slow start the first time you did this - or get off to one the first time you try - don’t feel bad. In normal life I am actually a pretty smooth guy - my friends are always amazed at how much I can make an innocent remark sound like a proposition and a proposition sound like an innocent remark... but my first approach was so spectacularly unsuccessful that its only useful purpose was to enormously entertain Erica, who was standing nearby. Once per weekend I try to say something she finds amazingly funny but I did not intend for this to be it...
Okay, I recovered from that. I had plans to play with Ann and Indy Girl later in the weekend and both were about six hours overdue at the time... unfortunately Ann had on a denim skirt that she didn’t want taken up down or off. So I’m wearing out my hand on the back of this while Indy is telling me Ann’s yawning and sticking her tongue out at me - which she denied pretty unconvincingly. Indy had just bought a strap that everyone seemed to like but that didn’t make much more of an impression, nor did Andy’s paddle. All I could think the whole time was “wait until I get you alone, young lady.”

Andy took over on Ann since he’s got a stronger arm. Now this is Indy Girl in real life. You can tell a little on-line but you have to see her to get the full effect. Did I mention it was her new strap that caused all the trouble downstairs at the vendor’s fair? “It has a mind of its own!” she kept saying, but you know what? It didn’t have an arm of its own - someone had to be trying to smack us with it! She is probably the brattiest one of all but instead of jumping around and pointing she just slips in some trouble-making remark and by the time you look over to see who said it she’s sitting there with this beatific smile on her face like she’s contemplating higher things. I guess some of the tops worry about being called unfair and don’t ever get completely convinced that she needs to be spanked but that has never worried me any... by the way she also has this lovely golden skin which would have been a lot more satisfying to get my hands on than the seat of her skirt, which was cut from the same cloth as Ann’s, probably at some major-brat supply store. On the other hand I can certainly sympathize how these women don’t want their skirts up at a big party where they don’t know half of the people. For instance Cat decided to suddenly flood the room with light and everyone - tops and brats - quite rightfully insisted that I had to spank her and even pointing her bottom toward the bathroom didn’t help since there was like a wall-sized mirror there to show everyone from all sides. So Indy aided by her skirt tried to ignore all of my best work and it wasn’t until later that she would admit she was sore at all.

Rather than wait until I get to Sunday night - which could be a long way off - I’ll tell you right now why I don’t like playing at parties. It seems like the spankees spend more time communicating with each other than their spankers - and the same goes for the spankers. It’s almost impossible to get into a position where you can interact at all, and each of you has someone else right in front of you. Plus in private I can dump out my hundred-item toy bag and find out what works and what doesn’t, or play with head space. Both of these I found to be difficult or impossible in public. Okay, enough complaining - every woman I played with was a joy to spank even under the worst conditions (by which I mean Ann on Sunday night) and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

By the way I’ve gotten away from using the term “Spanko.” I now think of tops as being Wacko and bottoms as being Whackee.

I’ve been told that some of the party animals stayed up basically all night but somewhere in there I dragged Cat off to our room - actually it was across the hall, having these blocks of rooms is really great - to play and eventually pass out or something... knowing that in the morning I would get to catch up with the irrepressible Ann...

***

It’s bad enough I can’t stay up any later than I do, even for something as great as the party. Actually, for this party my energy was way down (as indicated by how few new people I met Friday night) and I felt like I was running a few hours behind the whole time. But worse than the early bedtime is the early-morning wake-up. So Saturday morning I was awake “bright and early” - except that it wasn’t bright. I usually hit the Hard Rock casino when I’m in Vegas and Cat is sleeping in, but it was raining and I just wasn’t motivated. So I trooped downstairs where a few people living on East Coast time might be having breakfast, ran into a friend and ended up camped out facing the door so we could collect other party-goers.

This only worked a little (and we didn’t see anyone who posts here) but among the people we saw was Dolores Cortez, who used to make videos (and still should, if you ask me - but we’ll see). Even if you’ve seen her videos, you don’t know this woman. She looks like she’s ready to run a marathon which was apparently what she was trying to do and she’s hyperactive to the point that she makes coffee nervous so I have dubbed her the “White Rabbit” because every time I saw her she was saying “I’m late, I’m late for a very important date,” such as to see Father Mike and confess her sins. She must schedule her appointments the same way my doctor’s office does. So despite our best efforts we didn’t quite hook up.

I had promised Lauren that I’d wake Cat up for the 10 o’clock Brat’s Breakfast and we had even packed her beautiful Victoria’s Secret pajamas but I knew chances were slim. I tried again at 10:30 so she could make the second half, which met with similar success. Somewhere in here Ann finally recovered so we made plans to get together. Naturally just as I’m leaving Cat decides to finally wake up and get started on her day.

We’ve just bought the greatest camera - a five megapixel Sony the size of a credit card - and I brought the video camera because we were thinking of staging and taping some scenes, just for fun. At the last minute I left all the lights at home because the car was full enough but we thought we might give it a shot anyway. In any case, I did not, regrettably, get a picture of Ann’s delightful bottom which really belongs here, so I’ll just have to tell you.

Ann’s this petite little thing with a waist I can just about span with my hand if I stretch. This is on top of hips that look like they’ve been spun on a potter’s wheel by a very talented and appreciative artist. I don’t think I know anyone who has such a perfect curve from waist to hip to thigh (though I admit I haven’t kept track).

But like I’ve said, it’s not the bottom you spank, it's the brat… and Ann is the biggest brat! She is always up to something - then she looks at you from under her eyebrows like, guilty but forgivable, you know? You wish! I don’t think she gets forgiven very much and probably hates it if she does.

I don’t know if I should tell this and I usually err on the side of discretion but this one time I’ll make an exception. Ann’s a single mom which I know is hard so I try to provide some moral support which I think really helps. I had helped her break a very bad and dangerous habit with her driving and she’d been doing great for eight months. Then a few weeks back it seems like she had slipped up in a particularly bad way - so I had to punish her before we could play. This is the first time I ever had to do that (and I do not like to) so I took it a little easy on her (though not liking to wasn't why) but she definitely ended up knowing that she didn’t want the full version.

That behind us (or at least behind her, where it ended up) we dug into the toy bag and pulled out a good selection of nice, hard, and downright nasty. Leather seems to be very popular with the whacky’s so we came up with a lot of that, plus a light stinger paddle that last night she was only feeling over her skirt. Feels a lot different without, doesn’t it, Ann? Cat likes a lot of stingy stuff and I have a ton of it but even the things we tried we didn’t use very long because they’re not universally popular. And of course a little bit of rabbit fur before we finished up… finished up with the cane, that is. That’s another of Cat’s favorites and we’re trying to get others to like it as well, I think a couple of women were converted this weekend - Ann at least found out it can be used with a very delicious touch, as long as you’re not on some Czech website…

When I got back Cat was off with Mark and the maid was in the room so I just dumped the toys and headed back to the mixer room which was open from 1-3. Saw Ralph Marvel for the first time since his schedule was running a little later than mine and got to talk with Samantha a bit. She’s an actress so of course I’m immediately interested but then who wouldn’t be, she’s very pretty and very photogenic.

By the time Cat got done with Mark the vendor fair was closing so a group of us - Ralph and Samantha, Mark, Cat and me - headed off to lunch at the café. Ralph regaled us with his stories, starting with filming Samantha’s butt and ending with him having to move from his apartment into more private surroundings. This whole time our waitress is literally trying to top him - threatening him with security for stealing Cat's lettuce, for instance - and worse if he doesn’t behave. Like a lot of these brats, though, she couldn’t hold out and pretty soon was playing the bottom role - that is, until Ann showed up, late. It took some fast talking by Ann to keep the waitress from turning her over and spanking her on the spot - or spots, which had to be sore already. The waitress was in great spirits (along with all of us) and I came right out an invited her to the night’s festivities but she dodged me. She may have been a little self-conscious about her age - she was a grandma, she volunteered - and some of us were a lot younger, so she didn’t realize that she’d fit right in. So we had to leave her behind/alone.

Cat teases me about running my life on such a schedule but usually it works out well. I figured she’d take longer to get ready for dinner than Indy (or anybody) and why should I be bored? So Indy and I planned to get together at 5, giving Cat a head start but leaving her enough time to get ready herself.

Ralph had a session scheduled somewhere so he took off (not that it’s a secret, I just don’t remember who). Indy came over from the slot machines and her minor gambling exploits - the biggest gamble most these women made all weekend was saying “have you started yet?” - and we had nowhere to go, so we figured we’d just head upstairs and have our own party. I think I relate a lot better on this scale (there were six of us) and it really turned out to be the highlight of the weekend.

***

I read Bridget Jones’ Diary (the novel, not her real one) - an average movie but one of the funniest books I’ve ever read - and somewhere in there the male friend tells Bridget, as she’s madly preparing for a dinner party, “they’re coming to see you, not to eat.” I think this is great advice for any “party.”

Saturday afternoon we were at loose ends so we decided to just retire to our room with our lunchtime companions, and despite the impromptu arrangements we really had a great time. Sometimes it’s good to get away from the madness of the big parties.

Mark veered off to his room to get his toy bag, which somewhat surprised me - I wasn’t going to let these four beauties out of my sight without being threatened at gunpoint - and the rest of us settled in for drinks and chat and all until it became obvious who needed to be spanked first. I don’t really know what the wait was for, because Ann always needs a spanking - immediately - but I suppose we wanted to observe the formalities. She had bought a new strap at the afternoon vendor fair - she wanted Indy’s version, she said, but Ian was sold out so she got a little larger one. Of course she had to wave this around until someone - that would have to be me - grabbed it and her and brought the two together properly. She was back to wearing jeans - even her jeans are cute - but whether it was a full 24 hours of playing or just the heavier strap, I was at least able to make some impression. Despite the intimate atmosphere, the girls were still hesitant to be too exposed in front of one another, but at least a bit of the message got through.

Seeing Ann get spanked just made the rest of them jealous - all four of them are completely spoiled, you know - so Samantha was next. I assume you’ve seen her picture from Brushman’s video but in case you haven’t this girl is a delightful little pixie with perfect dramatically arched eyebrows over stunning olive eyes - plus the Jennifer Love Hewitt cleavage that stocked the spank bank of a generation of Party of Five watchers. She’s got this black thing around her waist that’s too wide for a belt and too short for a skirt - they somehow managed to fit some pockets in it so I assume it was the latter. Now, I’ve never played with this young woman before in my life, right? So I figure I’ll start out a little slow - I don’t want to end up in the updated version of “One Guy’s Rules For a ShadowLane Party” - skirt, panties, bare... honestly by the time she gets over my knee this “skirt” is too short to spank on it. No matter - she’s wearing these fantastic tiny-mesh black panties with miniature embroidered roses in pink and light green. If you thought Halle Berry was hot when she won the Academy Award, you’ve got a lot to learn.

So why do women do this? I’m smacking her, I’m getting started - after three swats she’s saying “is that all you’ve got?” We all know the answer to this, don’t we, guys? So I move her over where we can all enjoy this and in a minute she’s putting her hand back and kicking her feet up - Ralph, you really have not taught her very well (yet). And she has this cute trick of putting her feet up and pointing her toes so that they cover her bottom (this would kill me if I tried it). So you’ve got to pin her legs down, keep her hands in check, and leave a hand free to spank her well enough to keep her tongue under control all at the same time. It is a hard life, being a top - next party I’m going to bottom.

Mark comes back so that helps some - he has a lot of cool tools, practically Ian’s whole stock, I think. And Indy needs a spanking - most definitely - though she’s being modest, which limits its effectiveness, but I do my best - plus, after we used her strap so much last night, she deserves to get to try Ann’s - which has a big hole in the end, by the way, I don‘t know why Ian didn‘t fix that. Cat’s still sore from playing with Mark, I guess, so she’s being at least a little more circumspect than the rest.

I must just be too tolerant, but Mark had no intention of spanking Ann over her jeans - they came up with the solution of having her bare butt facing out the window rather than let actual party-goers see it - and he gets out the artillery. Besides the usual he’s got this new narrow rubber strap - both narrow and thick and despite not leaving much of a mark it can go from awful to brutal. Then a cute little see-through Plexiglas ruler-type thing - also narrow and thick - which the women claimed was effective.

Now you might think Indy is not getting spanked enough - Samantha certainly did, since she pointed it out about a dozen times, as did Ann and Cat - but we’d scheduled to meet in private at 5 when this party broke up, so I’ve got one eye on the clock and the other on a handful of toys that will catch her up in no time. Brats for some reason cannot believe that we have it under control.

Amongst these other spankings, I’m still trying to promote the cane as a lovely toy, so I have Cat kneeling on a chair with her skirt raised (and her panties “up”) so that I can cane her alternately nicely and well. She’ll be going along with oooo’s and ahhhh’s and then cry out quite convincingly on the occasional hard stroke. Adorable.

So this is how these women play - one girl’s getting spanked while two others are buzzing around like hummingbirds at a cocaine plantation, claiming I’m not getting enough of a reaction - or that she’s “faking” - while Indy lobs the occasional barb from her moral high ground. And Samantha is giving acting lessons on faces that look convincing. I tell Cat to get out the camera - since I’m tied up with feet, hands, and unstoppable wriggling - but we weren’t actually able to capture any of these prize expressions. I had ridiculously let S choose what I’d spank her with and out of a hundred wicked toys she manages to come up with the one - the fur-lined leather glove - that’s the most difficult to use. According to Cat - and Ann - I have ways of getting through with it, but clearly they didn’t work with this young lady. So we had to resort to some of the other 99.

Five o’clock rolls around but Indy at this moment is working her way through Mark’s (formerly Ian’s) inventory so we don’t break up and shortly thereafter Ralph joins us. Of course you’ve heard Ann’s story of very misplaced star worship - she has no future in Hollywood or politics - and we also thought it would be good to see if he could get more of a reaction out of Indy than I did. I think I managed one “ow,” but I suspect even that was just in pity for me. Like, you know how a woman will fake an orgasm just so you’ll give it up and quit trying (so I’ve heard, I mean). Fortunately, Ralph had better luck or more patience.

By now the camera was already out and I got the greatest picture of Cat, Ann, and Samantha sitting on the bed laughing and cheering Ralph on... it took a few tries - Sam, a natural actress, thinks she has to face all cameras full-on just in case (with a beautiful smile, though) and by the time I got a candid of her Cat was doing the same thing (and equally beautifully) - but the joy these women were showing is just priceless.

Ralph had so much patience with Indy that, with Cat getting another caning and a few more spankings here and there, it’s 6:30 with dinner at 7. Everyone’s sure that they can get ready in half an hour so we break up. Indy still knows she’ll at least be faster than the others so she stays behind so that I can finally give her one good spanking at least.

I wasn’t born yesterday so I know when a woman says she’ll be ready in half an hour it means she wants me to be ready in half an hour and then stand there for an hour while she is “almost” ready. So we got to dinner at eight, but there was still food even if we did have to sit practically outside. Not that brats care for sitting anyway.

*****

So for dinner - we head down right around 8 which is a little late even for us... one approach I’ve taken is to spank Cat every five minutes as she goes over her estimate, but in this case we would have gotten there around ten... and Ken and Connie came out of the elevator at the same time so we went in with them. Ken’s a little tall and slightly slender with dark hair and a beard - if he was in a white coat he would be your mental picture of a psychiatrist. Connie’s got that unusual mix of a light complexion and black hair - a short perm worn off her face that emphasizes her wide eyes and beauty-queen smile (plus one of those soft southern accents, which I always find weird because Virginia isn’t that far south). They’re dressed (very) nicely, like most people - over half - and could be headed to any fairly ritzy banquet in Las Vegas that weekend.

I, one the other hand, being from LA, have an aqua linen shirt and a dark crimson DKNY tie, accompanied by this stunning lady in a black strapless with teal corset lacing up the front - and a matching teal crop. We were not headed to the soccer parents’ gathering next door. I’m not the type to get jealous and I know every guy in the place thought Cat was the cutest little dominatrix they had ever seen or even dreamed of.

Stephanie Locke had apparently sprayed on charcoal rubber latex until she was allowed out in public, plus being quite tall and with her heels on her breasts floated over the crowd like twin disco balls. A petite young woman with a semi-goth, semi-punk attitude walked by in a red rubber skirt so tight that I don’t know how I could breathe. She was with a guy, I don’t know what he looked like. But most people just looked nice.

I mentioned several pages ago that I wasn’t up to this party like most I’ve been to - and by now I know enough people to have a good time anyway though I was disappointed that several of my favorite people weren’t there. My point is that I put more effort into catching up with people I know I bottoms I owe than making too many new friends. Even so, we did manage to befriend one new person, Jim, who was at our table. He was a local who had run a marathon that day rather than playing, so he was a little fresher than the rest of us. Oh and you crazy brats? He made it very clear that the gaggle of you running around smacking your dates was a real thrill - it had been his first night at his first party - and that he had been very jealous. Gino was as late as we were so we sat together like somehow we always do - and I always love his stories of the crazy LA women he seems to attract (for obvious reasons).

The food Friday night had been great - head and shoulders above any previous party I’d been to - and the dinner Saturday night was equally excellent, not that it matters. I think someone described the shenanigans on the dance floor, which was all that was happening on the dance floor - the one weak spot in all of the party arrangements was the banquet music, which was too loud and too old. No one danced virtually all night (also, if you’re trying to visualize this, the lights are up full).

Someone should be spanked for that dessert table - Eve, probably, since Tony has slimmed down and Butch looks like he never eats. From a selection of maybe eight very tempting possibilities we got some cherry-stuffed Black Forest cake and headed over to join this milling, worrying crowd left with nowhere to go in Bob and Ariel's absence. We’ve got a couple of generous offers - Chastenwood with Ann, San Diego Mark’s place on 17 (I think), and Bob the DJ’s (not Saturday night’s DJ, unfortunately) with Connie and Ken. Most of the video crowd seemed to have definite plans (though eventually ended up at Chastenwood) but I think many of the rest of us were in no hurry since we weren’t quite sure where we were going.

Connie was expressing an absolute fascination - a rather morbid fascination you’d almost call it - with the guy she dubbed “Star Trek” guy, since he showed up Friday night in his too-tight uniform. (I’m such a geek I didn’t even recognize it). For the banquet he was in a nice blazer - but then revealed the body harness underneath. It may have created the image he wanted but I think he intimidated a lot of people.

We headed upstairs and here’s a tip if you’re not staying at the hotel - they were checking keys at the elevator lobby and some guy just came up and asked to “draft” upstairs with us, since he was a local. It was no problem for me and it got him upstairs - I hope he didn’t mind that we ditched him, since we were going by our room and not straight to a party.

Actually, rather than bore you with the sparse events of my participation at the excellent and exciting Chastenwood party I will leave that for the many members who played pretty heavily there and save my space for more exciting stuff...

morning came early - really early...

It was really nice all being on the same hallway and I ran down to Lauren’s room with a thank-you card. She said that her room would be open for partiers all afternoon and evening - she really is tremendously generous. This way, people who had to check out by noon (or maybe it was eleven) on Sunday had somewhere to be until they had to head for the airport or wherever.
Somewhere in here I headed downstairs where a lot of people were hanging out while I waited for Cat. Naturally I ran into Indy, who was checked out and leaving at four, and a bunch of other people were around as well. When Cat was only a little bit late, Ken and Connie came by, headed to breakfast/ lunch/ brunch, so we decided to wait for Cat and all go together. The five of us ended up having a very pleasant meal together, though it was kind of low-key since everyone had been up so late the night before.

We got back to the room around 1:30, just about the time housekeeping came by to clean it - and they had no doubt of what was going on on this floor! As she’s coming into our room the maid - an athletic-looking Black woman - is calling back to her co-worker “if you don’t get your butt in gear, I’ll spank YOU” and he’s saying “leave me alone, I’m workin’.” Our original idea was that we’d go down to Lauren’s room for 20 minutes or so while they cleaned the room.
Once we got down to Lauren’s we ended up settling in for a bit - as I said, I was kind of sedate from the late nights and early mornings and I think a lot of other people were, too. We just sort of hung out and watched one of the toppy women demonstrate to Ian the London Tanner how you need to use the occasional petting and patting. He had a very hard time with this concept, it seems. He said something to the effect of “You’re young and attractive, you an do all the petting you want. I’m old and gnarly, I don’t have time for this.” So I guess some of the women got to compare - tops who do and tops who don’t.

Around four it was time for Indy Girl to head for the airport - it’s a quick trip if you have a car and know the way, so we packed her up and she and I buzzed over there where we had to say our goodbyes for the moment... ah well...

The Stardust situation hadn’t changed any when I got back so I went back to Lauren’s where I got into a conversation with a friend of mine, Kate. Kate as in the shrew in need of taming. But of course she’s heard all of that a million times, both the Shakespeare version (where Kate ends up demonstrating her subservience by putting her hand under her husband’s shoe in front of their friends) and the Kiss Me Kate version where I’m sure she doesn’t come out a whole lot better. Kate is cute and smart - a petite blonde who was one of the cute young schoolgirls Friday night - but she likes to be a brat, so she’d been spanked quite a bit. Still, she was up for at least one more though I had to go a little easy. Kate’s got that really pale skin a lot of blondes have that’s almost translucent and on the firm or jiggly question, she’s well-padded but firm. So that was nice.

Kate and I had moved over to the beds - the Stardust suites are big single rooms with a living-room type area and two big queen beds (instead of two rooms) - and soon Cat, Ken, and Connie joined us. I keep saying how worn out we all were - here’s an indication, we started looking for coffee. I think we managed almost one cup of cold coffee but started to brew some more.
Our second wind blew in about the same time as Mark and Ann. There’s a sofa that sits along the foot of both beds (facing away) with about a two-foot path in between and they sat on that, since we had somewhat sprawled across both beds. You’ve all read Ann’s posts, so you know that whenever she says anything she sounds like she’s bratting, and it’s a good bet that she is. At least, whatever she was saying in that bratty-sounding voice of hers sounded like it to me (maybe I was wrong - sorry, Ann). So I reached over the back of the couch and picked her up to put over my knee.

You’ve already heard this part where Ann thought it was so cute that under her jeans she’s got denim panties, too - so she’s pretty well armored. Plus pockets and a wallet or something - but at least I was trying to swat around that. I thought I had a pretty good grip on her but she starts really putting up a fight - I mean, why not? - and all of the sudden Cat and Connie are hollering bloody blue murder. And Ann, I mean, she is really out of control. Now you can imagine, this is every top’s worse nightmare, to go too far and have a woman get hysterical on him - and in front of other people, no less - so I wrap her up so she can’t scratch or kick me, lower her to the floor, and tell her soothingly to calm down. She bolts out of there like a cat out of the car at the vet’s.

Then she jumps up yelling “I got away! I got away!” while I look, understandably, totally confused. Turns out the girls were just encouraging her to get away, while I thought I was supposed to be turning her loose. I TRIED to explain this to her, to no avail. However... I let her up, I didn’t let her out of the room or anything radical like that. So I had to start all over (except for the part about emptying her back pockets...)

Since it’s a kick-back Sunday I’m wearing these olive-colored semi-linen shorts and a cream golf shirt, untucked... even if I’d worn the belt, it’s just a web-type, not a leather one, so I don’t even have that to use... Mark came through though by lending me a hairbrush - everyone at these parties is extremely helpful. Then after I carried Ann over to where she could return it and thank him, and have him use it a bit as well, then set her down... so her multiple layers of denim helped some but not entirely.

Cat and I moved over to the couch where we could talk with Mark and Ann - and let someone else use the bed if they needed it - though there were plenty of chairs, footstools, ottomen, benches - the Stardust really outfitted the room well - though decorating it with Lauren is a hard one to match in any case... while we’re talking to them Ralph shows up and Samantha struts in right behind him. She’s wearing those high rope-soled sandals, you know? and this blue lace top that’s lined so it looks racier than it is - not that it needs to be on her - with these fashionable jeans and NO back pockets, so that’s good. By the way I checked her picture on the ShadowLane website and I think everyone will agree that it doesn’t do her justice at all - in real life she’s much more animated, which doesn’t show there...

I’m not going to go into the whole cigarette story - suffice to say she smokes in a way I don’t approve of. I mean, if she wants her butt to smoke, that’s okay - as long as she’s not smoking her butts. But. Of course she doesn’t listen to me - why should I expect that? So she heads off for a cigarette - with Cat in tow! They know this is bratty, which doesn’t slow them down a bit.
While they’re gone Brushman comes in with TG and Anaia. Soon as he sees me he says “hey, I thought you were going to call us this afternoon and get something together?” I look around - it is obviously past afternoon which I have just realized... to me, in Vegas, it is always about ten o’clock at night. Brushman can tell from the look on my face that I only barely know what time it is - and in my defense that was only a back-up plan if we all couldn’t find anything to do...

So Cat and Samantha come back all giggly (I don’t know what was in that cigarette) and steer pretty clear of the couch where I have not moved from... so I have to get up and go over to them! I tell them one of them needs a spanking right now and Samantha says no - the kind of no that means no, you know? So Cat goes over my knee and up goes her cute little dress so she can learn the dangers of smoking... of course as you can all imagine Cat’s the easiest to spank anyway since I’ve had so much practice... turns out Samantha didn’t want to play in public and who could blame her?

I don’t know if they’ve been there the entire time but Ken and Connie are still over on the bed - or back, whichever - and they’re going to the Bellagio for the famous buffet (since “in real life” it’s past dinnertime). Lauren has thoughtfully provided us with those itty-bitty chocolate chip cookies about the size of a nickel in a bucket about the size they use for the slot machines. Seems that while I was sitting on the couch I had an entire dinner’s worth of those. So we stay behind.

TG is playing with JM’s husband (not a member here) and he’s showing her how a cane works... she seemed to be enjoying herself in some fashion and they’re right in the middle of everything so I watched that. I don’t know who Anaia played with - probably Ralph - but she and Brushman are making sure her well-attended bottom is not bruised or anything... there’s about six to eight couples playing pretty steadily in a space about the size of a family room (if you keep two big beds in your family room).

Ken and Connie come back - of course the Bellagio was fabulous, that’s why it’s famous, though eating a lot when you’re going to be playing is always a dicey proposition. Connie and I have been enjoying each other’s company so we’d like to play but of course she needs time to digest her meal... a consideration that Ken doesn’t have so pretty soon he’s got TG over his knee. They’re on the side of one bed - between the two beds - and Connie is on the other bed, watching them. I go over and ask Connie if she’d like to play, too, and she’s happy to do so.

*****

Connie slid into place as easily as a dance partner and really settled in to enjoy herself. She was wearing this knit navy-blue top and a mid-length white cotton twill skirt and had no reservations at all about it coming up. The combination looked really nice with her dramatic coloring. Connie’s got a kind of peaches-and-cream complexion, accented by a lacy peach thong... she hadn’t been playing all that much, I don’t think, other than with Ken so she was really in the mood for a good, long spanking. Plus, she has a nice smooth curve from the small of her back to the top of her thighs so she really looks great bent straight over like she was right then.

I’d been spanking her for a while with my hand - once again being short on toys - with her propped up on her elbows chattering away to people across the bed - that is, I’ve got her over one knee and she’s lying top half on the bed, bottom half between the beds. She didn’t seem terribly impressed so I was looking for something more to spank her with and someone - maybe Ken - provided a red leather paddle. This gives a nice spanking though I don’t know that it’s much more effective than my hand.

About two feet away, TG is lying across Ken’s lap along the edge of the other bed. Every time I stop for a second to try to upgrade my toys she’s asking “Are you done? Ken says we’ll be done when you’re done. Are you taking a break? We’re taking a break when you’re taking a break.” Who knows, women are social creatures, maybe they get a sense of communion out of this...

Anyway, someone provided an interesting little toy - a little strap of soft plastic, nearly clear, it’s probably silicone-based, so almost like rubber. That worked a little better and kept Connie from getting bored - apparently a difficult task - so we tried that for quite a bit. We also tried water and ice - the ice got a rise out of her, at least - but the whole time she was enjoying the nice steady firm spanking.

I didn’t exactly mention that Connie was the main voice in encouraging Ann to get away from me earlier, but she was. So at some point she tells some unseen brat “Oh, I think I can take him” (which was what she said (incorrectly) about Ann) and tries to get up. I don’t know, maybe these women haven’t discovered the differences between men and women yet, or something. I mean, I know I’m not built like Ralph or Andy but even so, I’ve got a 50-100% weight advantage if nothing else...

Let me digress for a moment. Several parties back I got in this same discussion with a lovely little lady who insisted that it was all a matter of position, balance, and footing, and that from a standing position like we were in it might be impossible to overpower her. I believe this woman weighs 85 pounds and was wearing supremely sexy but rather sheer lingerie. So I put her over my shoulder and spanked her from there and she didn’t have the footing to resist. I don’t know what she thought she was going to do...

In any case, let me explain. I have this wonderful woman over my left leg, not way over like head-down, just level, and my right leg across the back of hers. My arm is basically around her waist. Now I can see how she might think that if she straightens her knees and hips - those are strong muscles - that I’ll let her just walk away. No.

So she continues to get spanked with my hand, the leather paddle which I was sharing with Ken, and this plastic strap. Plus someone had a ping-pong-paddle-shaped paddle with a smiley face on it which turned out to be made out of the cardboard that they use for Kleenex boxes. Whatever. If I’d had a hairbrush or something I could have spanked her for her intolerance about Star Trek guy but I guess that’ll have to wait. I think eventually she’d had enough to last her to the next party and two swats after that I stopped.

So Ken and TG stopped, too. I keep planning to play with T-Girl but we really haven’t had it work out yet - she gets pretty busy at these parties, maybe that’s it - but in any case, Ken decides that he needs to spank Connie now, which I think everyone saw as perfectly reasonable, so I put TG over my knee. I think she’s Irish - auburn hair and pale skin that’d probably freckle if she sunbaths nude but it’s the first of April so she hasn’t been, even in LA. She’s tall and slender and I was really surprised how light she is. After about four swats Connie decides she’s too sore for this and we have to stop! See, this is just the kind of thing that happens... I don’t know what was up with Connie - I think maybe she got into one of those whackee mindsets where you want to keep going and keep going and then when you stop it turns out to be too much - really she asked for every swat I gave her but two...

It must’ve been getting late because Lauren needed her suite back - fair enough, I’d probably been there half the day or more... so one group of us, anyway, moved down to San Diego Mark’s place on 17. Maybe Mark and Ann got the jump on us or it was because I stopped for my toy bag but when Cat and I showed up with Ken and Connie, I think Mark already had Princess Gail over his knee on the bed. Tony (Gail’s Tony) was there, of course, along with our hosts Mark and Nancy and some new “faces.” Gail was showing off her dramatic figure in a little red cropped-tee and jeans, the jeans really flattering her because they were around her calves. Ann, of course, was overdue for a spanking just by being there.

Since I finally had my toy bag I was showing Ken my evil little rubber loopy thing that I’m always talking about. It’s about as long as a sheet of paper and consists of three light loops of thin rubber hose and the loops are knotted at the end so that there’s a ball about the size you’d make with your thumb and index finger so you have something to hang on to. It’s completely quiet and barely marks if at all but still stings. For example, he smacked Connie, who was sitting on the floor, through her twill skirt and she said “What the hell was that!?!” They’re going on a cruise and need something quiet so I gave it to them, since I buy this hose in 50-foot rolls.

Mark was waling on Gail to little avail (sorry, couldn’t resist) so Ken gave him this thing. I forget the wording of Gail’s comment but “hell-spawn” was definitely in there. Then she blames me for “interfering with a scene” - I pointed out it was Ken, not me - which is a spankable offense. She’s a switch so I guess this was just her invitation but it was returned unopened.
Somehow we got on the subject of spanking a brat with her shoe. Seems pretty reasonable to me, since they’re always kicking them up for you to grab anyway... but this is unanimously banned by the brats, because maybe there’s dog doo on it or something. Two minutes later Ann is making yet another crazy comment and I have to wonder why these brats are so concerned about being spanked with their shoe but are still willing to stick their foot in their mouth every chance they get.

As I said, Ann was overdue so pretty soon a bunch of these brats are tying Mark’s shoelaces to the stool he’s sitting on. This apparently led to some wrestling or something because Gail kept complaining that Mark had pinched her.

If you can stand a little more pontificating on my part... I don’t know if it’s being from California or the time I spend at the theater but I have managed to be around a pretty fair number of scantily-clad women in my life - maybe just because I’ve made it a priority - what I’m getting at is that even though I don’t really consider myself under-sexed, the sight of bare bottoms is not exactly a “climactic” experience for me. But I do realize that there are an unusual number of attractive women throughout these parties virtually nude from waist to toe at one time or another - several times and another, actually. I can imagine that some party-goers find it rather surprising. And even for me, to have Gail come over to where I’m sitting with her jeans down and display her inner thigh so I know that Mark’s pinch still shows, well...

Then the water came out and Nancy and SD Mark managed to soak each other, since they’re both brats... maybe that’s why the police showed up. They demanded to see SD Mark and see some ID and told him to make us keep the noise down but really we were breaking up anyway. Nancy gave me a big hug goodbye and now I was as wet as she was, so it was over my knee for her - she really plays hard but it was the end of the weekend so she certainly didn’t want to hold back...

We went by Mark’s room and rescued Cat... by the time morning came Ann was already at the airport.

I told Ken and Connie I’d be up so I’d take them to the airport even though they didn’t believe me. It’s like eight minutes by car and an hour by shuttle, it seems like. Coming back from the airport I ran into Lauren again, looking sharp in her work-day style clothes - I think they were a sailor motif. She and Gino were getting together for breakfast/ brunch at the cafe and said they’d be happy to have us join them - I think Lauren was on late check-out like we were. I hung around downstairs and said my goodbyes to Toluca Girl, Brushman, and Anaia and then chatted with Tony and Eve and finally Ralph and Samantha before they started their shoot for their perfectly-cast video “Heart-Attack-Prone Men and Their Heart-Stopping Women.”
Lunch was such fun - or whatever meal it was... that’s the only time you really get to talk to anybody. Another guy joined us but I don’t know if he wants his name mentioned. Surprising the things you can find out about people even after several parties together...

The weekend was just about over and it was finally time for me to get spanked. I don’t know if any of you know Jean Nevada - about 20 miles outside of town, gasoline over $2.50 a gallon - ouch ouch ouch! Thank God I didn’t wait till Baker...

next installment in six months...

Rose Bowl Bet

2007-03-02T13:55:00.000-08:00

Cat and I got together with Iris recently, after several tries and schedule conflicts. In this case “getting together” consisted of lunch at Mimi’s Café followed by sitting talking in the Appleby’s bar. While that may not sound too exciting, it actually was! Iris is cute and nice and a friend, and it’s very relaxing to be able to discuss scene stuff face-to-face with someone of a similar mindset without waiting for the next party. We also all claimed to welcome the opportunity to talk about non-scene stuff but while we did delve a lot deeper into personal issues than you typically would with someone less... shall we say “sympathetic? we didn’t actually get very far afield.

Somewhat recently Iris left a long-term disciplinary relationship though I won’t repeat the details from her blog here. Fortunately, partly because we’re in Los Angeles, she’s recently been able to rely on a friend, Fireman Chris, to keep herself on track.

Fireman Chris is a great guy and a lot of fun and we really like his lovely wife sparkle as well – I guess she doesn’t capitalize her name, like e e cummings. An added cool thing about Chris is that he’s a fellow USC alum so we cheer for the same team, recently featured in the Rose Bowl back on New Year’s. While Chris and many like-minded Angelenos are Trojan fans, Iris is from the lily-pale North and her entire family apparently backs the Big-10 champion, Michigan. So it was natural for them to have a bet on the game – which Chris describes here:

http://firemnchris.blogspot.com/2007/01/rose-bowl-and-rosy-bottoms.html .

Iris describes her recent interactions with Chris here:

http://www.punishmentbook.org/2007/01/be_careful_what.html#more though she barely mentions the bet, which is unfortunate, because hearing her tell the story in real life is an experience not to be missed – at least for me, having watched the Rose Bowl and knowing the progression of the scores. And she obviously remembers very well the panic she was feeling while watching the game with her family, who must have wondered a bit about her sudden obsessive interest in the final margin! Maybe we can get her to tell her side of the story here, or on her own blog, using OMG’s to reflect how wide her eyes got just relating the story to us, over a month later. Settling the bet must have made a significant impression on her, since she rose up out of her chair every time she described watching another USC touchdown, even from 2,000 miles away.

Making the Switch – Some Techniques of Leadership

2007-03-02T13:44:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine, a wonderful toppy lady who occasionally finds her wonderfully toned little bottom over my knee, was mentioning that she wanted to provide some help to women who were trying to switch from bottoms to tops. I had often thought that an essay on some of the differences between the Martian and Vesuvian personalities, as they've become known, would be helpful in giving women some insight on the male perspective. However, that essay, or series, has not come together very far to date and in lieu of those, I am going to comment on leadership. Some aspects of leadership work very well for tops and I think it could be very effective for a woman to adopt some of these behaviors when she is, for want of a better phrase, "in the role" of a top.

If you're a lady wanting to be more toppy in your play – or, more likely, asked to take on the top role occasionally, you're likely to need to, somewhat ironically, adopt some of the behaviors you have teased your partner about in the past. If these behaviors are too foreign to you you'll want to revert to your natural personality as soon as your scene is over, but for the duration of the scene, you'll want to act in certain ways as your normally-toppy partner does naturally (this is why I recommend that a scene have a fixed length, be it two hours or a three-day weekend). The Big Three are Rules, Orders, and Decisions. And who knows? You may even enjoy, briefly, being on the other side of Rule Number 1, which we all know is, "The Top is always right, the bottom is Always spanked."

(Quick disclaimer here – none of this stuff is terribly original, though nothing is directly plagiarized. Let's just say I based it on "undocumented research.")

Moving past "The Top makes the rules," let's take a less definite situation, such as a group of peers and look at the leader-to-be, or leader-wannabe, who we've all experienced at some point in our life. How does the leader-wannabe try to take control of the peer group? First, the leader-wannbe knows the rules, the Top knows the rules. The Top may choose to point out breaches in the rules, or not – but the Top is always aware of them. Rules are how non-leaders dictate the actions of others – and selective use of the rules is how they direct others into following their wishes.

"The Rules" extends past guidelines for behavior to encompass things like procedures, rituals, and, most importantly, schedules. Cat calls me "Mr. Schedule" because I have a schedule for everything (at least in my head), I'm aware of the time (which she is not), and I have things planned out. A leader-wannabe is acutely aware of the schedule, which was set by someone in control, and the Top sets and follows the schedule. Being a Top is about control, and schedules are the harness with which a Top controls time. With which you control time.

Now in order to have a schedule you will need to have a plan, which requires some forethought – but as a Top you're putting in a lot of forethought anyway. I personally feel that input from the bottom should be provided as long before or after a scene as possible, and negotiations or directions during a scene should be kept to a minimum. As a Top, you want to be prepared – and once you're prepared it's easy to develop expectations of how things will play out which – viola – becomes your schedule.

Similarly, you will need to be able to exactly remember any procedures and rituals. If the bottom is expected to dress a certain way or position themselves a certain way, to recite certain things, use proper forms of address, etc. you will have to catch any deviations. And, depending on how you play and how much it gets into more of a D/s scene, you might have procedures for cleaning the kitchen, doing the laundry, hygiene, sexual attention, or basically whatever. These are easiest to remember if 1) they are highly specific and 2) you determined them yourself. If you decide you prefer to be called Ms. Patricia instead of Goddess, it's going to be very simple to pick up on any slips (plus you'll get your kitchen cleaned the right way).

None of this means that you have to do it without assistance. If you want to make your man memorize some feminist dreck, you don't have to memorize it, too – you can just read along. Anything you might have trouble remembering, write it down – this controls it all the more, makes it all the more specific, precise and rigid.

Since I'm writing to switches, I'm not going to discuss things like excuses for forgetting which, if you're feeling merciful, can be ignored, even though it's a pretty clear sign that previous "memory helpers" were either insufficient or have lapsed in their effectiveness.

Let's proceed to Item Number 2, then maybe I can come back and pull it all together. The leader-wannabe further simulates control by telling others what they are supposed to do now, even (or especially) when they were going to do it anyway. This certainly reduces the chance of being contradicted! As a Top, this will also allow you to create a (partial) illusion of control – telling your partner to shower, or dress, or get themselves or the two of you a snack – even plopping them down in front of the TV while you do something else, like shower, dress, or get yourself or the two of you a snack.

It's okay if you preface all these directives with "Why don't you..." or "How about if you..." – I do that all the time, to avoid intimidating or antagonizing people. In your Top role, however, you'll want to make it clear that that's just a speech mannerism, not an invitation for discussion.

In addition to orders about everyday activities, it's most effective to be very specific – where do you want your bottom and how – bent over, kneeling, on the couch – where? "On the bed, underwear at mid-thigh, head there, knees there" is a very toppy-sounding directive, as well as "We're going to see "Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood – put on your striped boxers, jeans, and your thick brown belt." In the Advanced Class, we'll have you making him change or remove said boxers in front of you.

Topic number three is Decisions. You can tell from Topics 1 and 2 that you've made a lot of decisions already, and now it's time to make the rest of them – yes, all of them. And I hate to tell you, but you, as the Top, are responsible – fully responsible – for all of them, even the wrong ones. Brats always think the rule is "The Top is never wrong." That's not exactly right. The real rule is, "The Top knows this is the best they can do."

This, ultimately, is what the Top provides (besides swats) – responsibility. The bottom is free from worry about what will happen, what they will have to do, if things go wrong. The Top chooses an action, proceeds with it, and deals with the outcome (by making another choice). The bottom's just there to be spanked whether things go right or wrong.

This is not to say that the Top makes choices in a vacuum. The Top may decide "We'll go grab some Chinese food at 6 PM" but only because you knows that your partner likes, or at least tolerates, Chinese food and you scheduled lunch at 12. You may decide to use the cane last because it's hardest on the bottom's skin, or choose to dress the bottom up like a schoolgirl because you know that's what your partner enjoys.

Here's the secret to making decisions: "Ya-Ya Sisterhood" stinks, even if you're a woman, so when you get back someone's going to have to be spanked. And it's not going to be you, is it? You chose it because you thought you'd enjoy it (and because you wanted to torture your partner). How were you supposed to know? Reviews aren't always right. The price of having someone else to decide is allowing them to make mistakes. That spoon left huge purple bruises, a lot of them, all over? They fade, next time you'll know and decide whether to do it again or not. Neighbors overheard you playing in the garage? Face up to them, shun them, or lie – you can't take it back now, the only way is forward.

(I just have to throw in here that I have a few really surprising stories about taking responsibility, much too long and mundane for this space.)

The Top is always answering the questions "What are we doing and when are we doing it?" You may or may not answer "Why are we doing that (now)?" or "Why are we doing that that way?" But the first two decisions are what you provide as a Top, what you relieve the bottom of – the decisions of what, when, and exactly how.

I felt like if I started with this statement it would intimidate people and they would stop reading, while now I hope that it's a lot easier to absorb: The Top develops a desired vision of the future and proceeds to create that future. After accepting a lot of input, You will choose what You want to happen during a scene and then You will play out that scene as, or pretty much as, You intended. You will enjoy it and your partner will love it.

Okay, here's the post-script from my friend who reviewed this: she wants me to be sure to point out that, while these tips may be helpful in acting out a scene your partner will appreciate, a woman needs to pursue her own erotic pleasure from being on top, having her partner's buns, as well as everything else, at her disposal. While the full charge and flow of eroticism and energy may not happen the first time a woman tops, it is what she should strive for as scenes progress.

Old-Fashioned Family Values

2007-02-20T21:24:00.000-08:00

From Yahoo! News:

A float depicting U.S. President George W. Bush being spanked by the Statue Of Liberty passes by during the Rose Monday carnival parade in Mainz, western Germany, on Monday, Feb. 19, 2007. Thousands of spectators attended the traditional street carnival parade in the state of Rhineland-Palatinates's capital. (AP Photo/Bernd Kammerer)
http://news.yahoo.com/photo/070219/481/kmz10202191246
--

Watching a Punishment

2007-02-19T11:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, by now it's clear to everyone that I am a lousy blogger, I and totally not the "once a day" type about this or anything (I've often thought that being the once-a-day type would make my life a lot easier...). But I've also decided not to be too hard on myself, that's just how I am, and now I will dive back in and try to get back into it... I have tried to sit down and write at different times lately and basically came away with nothing, or very little.

One problem is that I always want to write so much, and don't just dash something off and post it, when I probably should...

The second problem is that I always want to wander off into some deep meaning out of every experience, while I know anyone reading this would be happy just to hear a recounting of what's going on... so I'm trying for some balance here – I promise I'll at least get one story told, within the musings...

Today's musing – having been to two amazing parties in two weekends leaves me way too much to choose from – is a rather guarded foray into uncomfortable territory. Actually, what it is about is "uncomfortable territory." I suspect very many people in the scene experience this – they read, see, or hear something that evokes a physical reaction – okay, turns them on, usually enormously – while the civilized part of their brain is saying "I shouldn't be feeling this, I shouldn't be liking this." Assuming that most everyone knows what I mean, I am certainly not going to cite all the examples that have happened to me over a long and happy life, but let's just say that it tends to be something too severe or too explicit or mixed with elements I'd rather not even read about. Yes, for me, it's almost always reading. I've never been much of a watcher – I don't watch videos and seldom watch others play, though at times scenes in mainstream movies are a little surprisingly breathtaking.

That deeper subject is a pretty big leap from the scene I'm about to relate, the subject just came to mind while I was remembering it. As I said, I've been to two great parties (which I'll have to report on). A lot of times party play is a lot different from relationship play or arranged-meeting play and these parties really underscored this fact. With the exception of one woman, I had no scenes arranged, had not promised to correct any behavior, had no pre-discussed D/s plans. And the parties played out the same way – we'd be hanging out with friends, it would be convenient (at last!) to play, and we'd do so – sometimes moving off to our suite, more often not. My partners, facing multiple opportunities to play, almost exclusively wanted to be spanked by hand which, despite the fact that I have an arsenal to attract UN weapons inspectors, I really enjoy. Now, I know some (okay, most) of these women enjoy scenarios, role-play and actual discipline and sometimes more, but that wasn't what this was about this time around.

One of the women, however – a stunning young lady – professed an absence of interest in punishment scenes altogether – maybe more of a submissive type approach, where play is not dictated by real or imagined behavior. This is something I'm trying to get a better handle on lately because I'd like to play more with submissive women. At one point I had her over my lap in a suite party, moderately spanking the amazing hills of her lovely bottom, and someone asked what she had done.

"Some girls are spanked because they're naughty," I explained, "And some are naughty because they are spanked." Later she heartily agreed with this assessment.

The combined effect of this string of comfortable, straightforward scenes sort of left me with the impression that I was really more comfortable with this friendly, non-critical type of play. While I am always told that I scold effectively and can sound quite threatening with complete naturalness, I do always worry that the criticism, appropriate or exaggerated, can leave my partner feeling rejected or deficient rather than cared for.

We were anxious to see each other again and looked forward to the next weekend's party which we would both be attending. Once there someone lost no time in taking her aside and warming her thoroughly but this only fueled her desire. Soon she was standing next to my chair and, after the previous weekend's familiarity, I put my hand on the back of her knee and slid it upward under her flowing skirt, encountering the lovely curve of her bottom long before the waistband of her panties. I asked if I should bring anything and she said "Cat."

We had discussed this the previous weekend so I wasn't surprised; we'd tried to set something up but the timing can always be difficult and honestly it's not worth it to force it, it's better to wait. Now you have to keep in mind that while Cat's been there when I'm playing with some interested young lady, she hasn't actually played with anyone other than me in literally a year – though she is starting to develop an interest again. The situation wasn't really right at that moment, so the two of us went off alone.

Dispensing with the "you've been a naughty girl" and jumping straight to the "okay, young lady, you love this and you know it" I had her over my knee right away and the conventional phrase is that it didn't take long to get her well-spanked. And that might even be true, but I definitely spanked for a good long time while she had only lacy black cheek-baring panties for protection – or modesty, at least. Even so, that's never really the full experience, is it? So down they came, toward whatever end...

Now there are all kinds of great bottoms to spank – some are soft and white as a cloud, some are firm as an Olympic hurdler's. The first can sting my hand like the wickedest light strap and the later can resist with the thud of a frat paddle and of course there's a wide, wide spectrum in between. Her pale cheeks – she colors very little at all – were a pair of lovely cushions over a firm substructure.

Then she said "Spank me hard."

I want a woman to enjoy a spanking so typically I spank firmly, deliberately, making up in length what I don't provide in power – but this is a personal choice. If it's harder spanking she wants, it's harder spanking she shall get, and she did. Of course, in the moment it's a little hard to use any sense... and I mean either of us... but she soaked up everything I gave her, clearly enjoying it despite occasional "reservations," and her enjoyment built and waned as the spanking went on unabated. It's a little harder to pick a good place to stop when the scene is completely unmotivated – or, that is, unmotivated by behavior. And I'm sure it's hard for my partners, as well, having no idea why I chose that moment to stop – and they seldom ask me to go on, maybe figuring I'm tired? Maybe I should suggest a break and see if they want to start over...

Anyway, I eased to a stop and she'd apparently had enough for the moment... a hug and a kiss, resisted mauling her or consuming her whole (had to leave some for Cat...)

Basically impossible, though, no matter what your favorite headspace, to be at a spanking party without being taken to task for some wrong-doing... I'll let Cat describe the whole dice game that led up to it but the short story is our wild child found herself bent over the end of the couch while Cat wielded the "For the Little Dear with the Bare Behind" paddle. Meanwhile I'm sitting on the couch so her gorgeous curls, clenching fingers, and pleading mouth and eyes are practically in my lap... ten slow swats which seemed like very little relative to how I'd spanked her but clearly she felt it profoundly. She was clearly anxious for it to be over long before it was and was greatly relieved when she'd gotten to the end of her count.

Much as I like to see women enjoy themselves, I still found this tremendously exciting. The pseudo-non-consensual nature of it, the difficulty she had absorbing it, the inevitability of the count (no matter how short)...

Okay, I guess everyone in the scene got over being uncomfortable with enjoying punishment scenes a long time ago – just like I did. So long ago, in fact, that I found it very interesting to re-travel that long-forgotten road.

Now as for other "uncomfortable territory" – that'll have to wait for another post!

Cold Turkey

2006-11-27T21:16:00.000-08:00

I imagine that some readers of this blog are so young – over 18, I certainly hope, though I seldom say too much that's too explicit – but young enough that they remember using the family internet connection under their parents' watchful eye. I can imagine that in some cases that's pretty difficult – not wanting pages in the history but not wanting to suspiciously clear the history, following links so that at least addresses don't appear in the address bar, not saving the many text files or pictures that you'd prefer to. Parental oversight of internet activity is only something I've encountered when I've checked my e-mail from my mom's retirement apartment.
(by the way, having my mom, whom I do love dearly, watch me navigate the 'net is, unbelievably, even worse than having her navigate while I drive – why did you go there? It let you do that? I didn't know it would let you do that... I can't believe it let you do that, I never knew it would let you do that...)

But a close second to parental oversight is having the kids here for the holidays. At least I can dump the history and cache, the hell with suspicion. And I have a DVD writer so I can easily write out all of my scene files to DVD, lock it up, delete the files from the hard drive, and empty the recycle bin. Check anything I log into and make sure I haven't set it up to log me in automatically. Make sure nothing too obscene is listed in any of the applications' "recently used files" lists. And so on, though as I said, the least of my worries.

Then it's the five days of togetherness with cold-turkey withdrawal for three of my favorite activities – writing, reading, and corresponding. Though it goes far beyond feeling slightly (or wholly) out of touch. First of all, the teenagers have no desire for my 24/7 attention or activities – especially two of them who have strict limits on how much interpersonal interaction they can stand in any 24, 48, or 72-hour period. Exceed these limits and they either withdraw non-negotiably or break down physically. So I do come up with a fair amount of free time.

I hate to call myself a writer, since I only do it as a hobby, only write scene material, and only get it posted, never "published." But "as a writer" I always, always feel behind. Thinking takes minutes; writing takes hours or days. Thinking can occur at any time; writing, for me, requires a concentrated, seldom-interrupted block. Having five days (I took Wednesday off) without work would normally seem like a great time to "catch up" if that's at all possible, and some of the mountain of writing I'd like to do – and not only writing but on-line reading that I also can't always keep up with. Some of it's writing – stories and essays – and some is correspondence and dialogue and chatting, which can also be a little hard to keep up with, due to conflicting schedules and all.

Much as I love my kids – I'd much rather have them here every second weekend, if they still lived in town – having them here for all of my holiday and vacation time can be a bit taxing.

So if you're in an unfortunate situation – still sharing a computer with your parents, for instance, regardless of your age – you have my sympathy. But don't feel like you're alone. While I had a great Thanksgiving with much to be thankful for (including coming up with a Christmas present for my hard-to-buy-for youngest) I am still jumping back into things feeling five days farther behind than ever!

The Young and the Responsible

2006-11-20T21:23:00.000-08:00

LibraryGirl and I were discussing ages – some women want their partner to set up all sorts of rules and monitor them or, in my experience, the women want to set the rules and have their partners monitor and enforce them. In several ways this is like being a child, say under 12 for a convenient marker – no responsibility for one’s self, no decisions, just stay within the rules. And without going into detail here (later, probably), that’s asking a lot of your partner if you’re trying to do this on a 24/7 basis.

LG isn’t like that – she wants to make her own decisions and such but not actually have responsibility for her life, like a teenager. If she’s got a job and money she can spend it all on CD’s and DVD’s (not that she does) and hair thingees and non-necessities. Ideally, to her, the rent is paid and the grocery shopping done and as long as she cleans up after her snacks all should be well and good. This isn’t only like a teenager, it’s also like a cat – or at least our/ her cats, which are the only ones I have experience with. She is like them in a lot of ways. And like an awful lot of people, she’d rather give up all kinds of material things if it means she can live modestly where she wants, do what she wants, and work when she wants. And if you have a partner who feels the same way you can put together something that works this way, sometimes.

My Permanent Age

I’ve always said (correctly or not) that women mature but men are born to an age and are that age all their lives – in my case early to mid 30’s. When I was younger – say mid 20’s – people actually said I looked good for my age, assuming that I was in my 30’s. And I can look back and see that for a lot of years that was the spot where I was heading my life – job – check; house – check; family – check; boredom – uncheck. Not really looking for a new car every two years, a good golf game, and a big 401k. Maybe, of course, it’s just not yet, and I’ll get there later. But the period of my life I was heading for completely skipped college or a young-twenties social life and headed to that nice orderly spot even back before I got out of grade school – really. I’m not basing this whole theory on one closely observed individual, however – we all know guys who will always be 17-19 even as they approach 50; other friends of mine (mostly at my work) were in their mid-50’s, mentally, when they got out of college – eager to have their retirement plan well-stocked, making purchases with an eye toward this TV or this couch being the last one they ever have to buy. And yes, I realize that a lot of the difference between men and women is that men don’t hear their biological clock, or recognize it as such; babies at 70 or 80 seem to be more the mark of a true champion than a symptom of dementia.

What I did to get to be old before my time, maybe I’ll get into later.

Too Responsible

I’m smart, very smart, LG is too, and while you’re growing up being smart seems to be everything to parents and teachers and you get a lot of positive reinforcement. And it becomes your identity, especially if you’re like me and you are nothing but smart – but whether you have other talents or not, being very smart defines you at that age, if not others.

And with smart comes responsibility for your actions, and usually a great willingness to recognize and accept this responsibility. I’ve let go of most of my grievances from that age, really, but now that it comes up I guess it still annoys me that you get this level of responsibility but no authority at all; no opportunity. I envied the big dumb guys who could make their living, have cars and apartments, without finishing high school while I had to wait through four years of college. A high IQ can get you a minimum wage job at age 16 but it doesn’t help – all it does is restrict your hours because you can’t afford to miss classes. If I had my way, though I never will, smart kids could get good $10 an hour jobs part time starting in early high school. Anyway.

I’m not saying that other kids don’t get punished – you came home late, you went too far, you should have known better – but all that happens to them is that they get punished, grounded, yelled at, lectured, whatever. But when you’re smart it goes beyond that – the parents or teachers also withdraw the approval of what makes you special to them – being so smart, always being right, being a good thinker, being a miniature adult. But if you screw up, you’re not just inattentive or forgetful, you’re defiant or disobedient. And the worst part is that this is true – I knew I was coming home late (so playing dumb makes me a liar, to boot), I knew I wasn’t supposed to cross the freeway (using an underpass, or a culvert, but still, I was in second grade). They were right, I was being defiant or disobedient. Maybe (looking back and guessing, I have no training in this and am just thinking off the top of my head) because I wanted the authority that went with my responsibility. Hey, why shouldn’t I decide when I come home or how far I go, since I’m basically a small adult?

Okay so they were right and I was wrong – a 60, or 90, or 120 pound “mental adult” cannot safely do the things a 20-year-old can. And they were wrong in expecting me to act with the responsibility of a 20-year-old (30, whatever) when my world was that of an 8 or 12 or 16-year-old.

We’ve all seen the Marx Brothers movie where Karl (he was the serious one with the beard) says “From each according to their ability, to each according to their need.” While this statement has its merits and represents a good ideal, it hasn’t proved very practical in, well, practice, not in general society. And it might make a good theory for raising kids – who doesn’t try to match what they do for their kids to each kid’s needs? But in certain ways it sort of sucks. I sort of prefer the Gospel passage (no, I’m not going to look it up) “To him much has been given, much will be expected.” Okay, parents, you want to expect a lot from me, what are you giving me? And don’t give me that “smart genes” crap, I mean what are you giving me lately?

So my point in all this blather is that it’s very easy for a smart, serious kid to miss childhood altogether – or at least an important part of it: carelessness without serious consequence. Your ice cream drips, so your clothes have to be washed. Is that better or worse than going through life making sure your ice cream never drips? Being able to foresee every likely problem and failure – and trying to mitigate it in advance – means you miss a lot of fun to avoid the occasional scraped knee. Scrapes might be one-for-one or two-for-one, but you can get a lot of thrills before you break your arm and the cast would have come off a long time ago. In fact, if I’d screwed up and robbed a bank, or gotten caught doing some of the things I really did do, I’d have gotten out of jail twenty years ago last month. And maybe I would have lost my right to vote in the last presidential election, as my mother used to warn, I believe. Oh boy oh joy, dodged a bullet with that one.

Now I'm not totally blaming my parents and teachers here – they couldn't have prevented it if they tried (though I don't really remember them saying "maybe you should try to be less responsible..."). We bring it on ourselves – maybe because we think that taking responsibility will lead to authority, or maybe just because we can't help it. In fact, if I was going to blame anyone, it'd be me, except...

Blaming Myself

Up till a certain number of years ago, I used to look back in horror at some of the things I did, in high school, at jobs, in college, in my first years working as a professional. And probably back into junior high school. Generally immature things, usually initiated in an attempt to be funny, to impress a girl, or as the result of an enormous amount of drinking. And according to Maxim, I had done everything wrong in the social department. Then at some point I realized that they were giving advice to guys in their mid-twenties – even though it included how to select a great video game – while I had been making these mistakes in my teens. Frequently (unfortunately, not limited to) my early teens – honestly. So no wonder. I looked around at some of the guys I knew who were younger than me at the time – say I was getting close to 30 – and realized that in a lot of cases they were years older than I had been when I tried to do some of these things – like, rent an apartment, at 17 – not everything went smoothly (though I did get one). Trying to switch from a blue-collar/ union upbringing to a white collar/ management perspective and playing office politics at 21. And I would have recovered, over the years, from those mistakes, had I stopped making new ones...

But in any case, at some point I decided to stop blaming myself – or start forgiving myself – or letting go of the stuff I had done but had stopped doing. Or did a lot less regularly. The stuff I haven't stopped doing, well, you have to learn to live with what you can't rise above, as Bruce Springsteen said.

I'm not famous – maybe I wish I was, but I'm not – I haven't even done a ShadowLane video and I certainly didn't do one twenty years ago, right after I got out of the reform school I didn't go to, which I'm sort of glad of because my hair in 1986 is not something I want to be remembered by. Somewhere around then I had about a three-inch high flat top and some other time I had sort of a pseudo-mohawk, or a faux-hawk. If those tapes had been made, though, I guess I'd have to get over it. And I sort of have to wonder what Madonna thinks (not of me, I already know that) when she reinvents herself and has the power to drive the definition of cool away from her old self, but in doing so makes her old self look all the more dated, ridiculous, and foolish. Does she shudder at every old picture or Sean Penn movie, does she just avoid them (hard to do), or does she just accept that at one time she sang "Lucky Star" and "Holiday" like Tiffany, or was too obviously provocative with "Like a Prayer/Virgin?" Does she say "that was another person?"

I went back to my hometown after I'd finished college and started making some serious money and walking the streets like I always had I almost told myself "there is no way the you you are now came out of here. How did that happen?" (a lot of generosity by a lot of people was a big part of it).

Writing this and looking it over, I can see that I overcame some obstacles just to get to a point where I was a self-sustaining, contributing, productive human being, which at one time was my goal – or at least my next goal. And yet, being a critical thinker, for many years when I looked back all I could see was the mistakes and the embarrassments – the person I was thinking most critically of was myself.

Where does this bring us?

When I was young I was too old, my expectations were way too high, and I had to learn to accept that I hadn't met those or even more modest expectations without feeling like a perennial failure. I'm not sure I missed feeling like a teenager or being one but I can see how I could have. I'm not really trying to get back to that stage of my life but in some sense I never left it, either.

Nice of you to have read this far to see how this ties into the spanking scene, but I treat spanking, at least most of it, like play. And I treat a lot of sex like play. Chasing, laughing, mock threats, throwing Cat around. Starting with clothes on. Who ever starts a seduction in clothes except a couple of horny teenagers? And I don't mean fancy lingerie, I mean jeans and t-shirts. I like making out under clothes – why? Because you're not supposed to, you're stealing a moment, it's something you do when people might walk by any moment. Smacking a bottom (once) – everybody does it, and no one's supposed to – she always looks shocked and insulted and embarrassed. Oh, sure, there's the running around the house naked, but that's for weekends when you have absolutely no plans before 8 PM like a kid whose parents are out of town. There were things I was supposed to get done last weekend – adult things, grocery shopping, organizing – but hey, there was no one here to make me do it. So – no.

I've always said the sexiest thing about a woman is enthusiasm, and that's what I love about spanko women – they're always (or so often) anxious to play – or play again. You can play for half an hour and fifteen minutes later just a sidelong glance and it's off to the races – like a couple of teenagers. And everything else takes a back seat. Except that I no longer have a car with a back seat you can play in, let alone make love in, though now the minivan does have some possibilities.

Another way that spanking is like teen sex, in a great way, is its (supposed) secrecy. If you're adults, married, living together, dating or whatever, if you've got a door to close and you're having sex no one says you shouldn't. How fun is that? But start spanking and all of the sudden you're doing something you don't want everyone to know about (even if they do). You hide it from the kids, you hide it from your parents, you try to hide it from the neighbors probably with no success, but you try. Is it dirty? Maybe. But at the very least it's covert. You're in a restaurant or a movie, pick any adult couple and you can say "He's going to take her home and make love to her." Ho-hum. "But you – I'm going to take you home and blister your bottom." Now you've got a secret. And if it's not so secret, who cares? Did suspicious parents, knowing teachers, and a Verizon-Network style crowd of onlookers ever keep us from mauling each other? Think not.

So that's where I am – it needs to be fun. Mistakes need to be free of serious consequences. It's better when it's something we're not supposed to be doing. And we're in too big of a hurry to change into pj's, brush our teeth, feed the cats, check the locks, start the dishwasher, and turn out the lights. Now. Quick. While maybe nobody's looking.

Thank You and Good Night

2006-11-05T20:07:00.000-08:00

Whew - not much to say about this one - except thanks...

Mass De-lurk Day

2006-11-03T10:39:00.000-08:00

Bonnie Burns over at My Bottom Smarts has declared this "Mass Spanko De-Lurk Day" and has asked all of us spanko bloggers to encourage as many people as possible to "come into the light," if only for a moment. Specifically, she'd like everyone who can possibly bear to to post a comment to one of today's messages. And if you see this late, post a comment anyway!

Bonnie herself can be found over at bottomsmarts.blogspot.com. In honor of, or support of, Bonnie's de-lurk day, I offer the following tale:

Lurker's Birthday

Julie and I bought a new computer this weekend and some of the software was already loaded, so I poked around a bit to see what we'd got. That's when I came across a folder called WordPad-Diary. Who could resist?

When I found this entry, I had to show it to Julie right away and I knew we'd be posting it before too long. Hope someone out there at SSS is as interested as we are.

***

Dear Diary (it said),

I was sitting at my computer tonight, happily cruising my favorite website, when the doorbell rang. I looked out and there was a policewoman with a respectable-looking couple, so I opened the door.

"Internet police, ma'am, may we come in?" Since they were in already, it wasn't much of a question.

"Who?" I asked. I didn't even know the Internet had police. I looked at the couple she had brought with her - a tall Anglo woman, maybe a banker or real estate agent, and a quiet, heavy-set Hispanic man. Respectable, you know? Like someone from church. The officer was a short woman, not much taller than me but with muscles where I'm round, so she did look like she could handle herself.

"Internet police," she repeated. "You've been lurking on the SSS news group for one year as of 8:00 this evening, without posting."

"Would there be something wrong with that?" I asked defensively, trying to cover my shock. "There's nothing wrong with listening." I was hoping that I was not admitting anything, without saying something really stupid, and I like the term "listening" better than "lurking" anyway. After all, SSS was on my screen in the bedroom at this very moment so I couldn't very well pretend I'd never been there.

"Well, people are free to listen but responses are what feed our writers, as I think you know."

"Lots of people respond!" I countered, realizing too late that I should just keep my mouth shut. So I'm a slow learner, I've had this problem all my life - keeping my mouth shut, I mean.

"That's not the issue here," I was told. "Lurking without posting may not exceed one year in duration. It's in the bylaws... certainly you've read the bylaws?"

"Yes, well, um, I was going to, I've been waiting until they're posted again."

"They're posted regularly, ma'am. And they specifically state that the duration of lurking may not exceed 365 consecutive calendar days, exclusive of February 29th."

"Okay, so what? You're going to kick me off? You're going to de-lurk me?" I tried to sound a lot braver than I felt. I did not really want to be exposed to the world of SSS and I certainly didn't want to be kicked off. I was hoping they'd give me a choice, I could make up a name and come out if I had to.

"Not exactly. We consider this to be your news group birthday and are here to treat it as such. This is Deborah and this is Jorge," she waved, indicating her companions.

My jaw fell to the floor. "I don't think so!" I demanded, "Get out of my apartment!"

Officer Brunswick, as her badge identified her, seemed unmoved. She flipped open a small notebook.

"On February 17th, you copied a story from the board to other electronic medium. This was specifically and explicitly forbidden by the author. The evidence, we believe, is on your hard drive at this very moment. Do any of the following phrases sound familiar to you? 'Listen here, little missy... who do you think... you won't be sitting... how dare you... if I ever... won't forget this one'?"

I got an icy feeling across my seat. There were more than a few stories like that on my hard drive. I never had any idea it was against the law.

"Everyone does that," I stated definitively. "You can't single me out."

"Perhaps people do. We'll not argue that point. As far as singling people out, we are prepared to make you a test case for Internet property rights." As a wave of horror swept over me she verbalized my very thoughts - "You can see yourself on AP top stories - with a photo, perhaps."

Instinctively I covered my bottom with both hands and pushed it as far away from this trio as it could get. Tears sprang to my eyes. I could not have people know about me, I'm not the type to be famous, much less infamous.

"So, shall we see you in court - and on My Yahoo 'Stories of the Hour'?" Brunswick asked.

"Or?" I half-wailed, half-moaned. She waved again to Deborah and Jorge.

They didn't look wicked - more serious, disapproving, perhaps, and a little disappointed. My mind spun as I tried to figure out what could be going on. As I said, Deborah was tall and Anglo and looked very competent and respectable. She wasn't in any kind of scary or sexy costume, just a woman going to work. At an office.

I say an office because Jorge probably works outdoors. He had a deep tan and very hard hands, I couldn't help but notice. His shoulders looked like he did a lot of lifting and not weight-lifting, work lifting, I mean. His middle looked liked he had lifted a few beers in his time as well. His clothes were clean and not worn, even though they didn't look new, so he looked dressed up, especially his shirt, which was orange and red with a Latin-western design. He still had most of his thick dark hair and his sideburns were way too long. I couldn't help but notice that behind the requisite oversized belt buckle was a wide, heavy, and somewhat overworked leather belt.

I thought of the stories I had most often cruised and a light went on. I almost laughed! These two were supposed to be my parents, me their daughter. What was funny about it is that my father was born in California and works in a bank (I probably thought of one of his co-workers, seeing Deborah) and my mother is a housewife, as short and plumper than I am. She's the one from Mexico and only works a few days a week, at the market. It was almost like they'd gotten my parents reversed.

Then the unfunny thought occurred to me - what always, always went on in these stories. I felt that exact sensation they always describe - a combination of glistening excitement and abject fear. I thought instantly about what panties I had on - clean, at least, even if they did lack sex appeal. Why I should worry about appealing to these people, I don't know. Why I even went along with it, I don't know. I guess in a way I wanted to. A year of reading these stories had gotten me more than ready.

Even as I thought back to a story or two, Jorge went over to my couch and sat down like he owned the place. His legs were well out in from of him and he looked like he was on a throne. Without a word he patted his solid thighs and motioned me over with a look. For some reason I drifted in his direction.

As soon as I got close his arm caught me under the seat and in an instant I was across his lap. I thought of hot stories with belts and switches and very embarrassing positions and hoped and prayed this wasn't one of those. I really didn't want that, I really, really didn't. Thankfully I still had my jeans up when he smacked me the first time.

"So, little lady, you know it all now, do you?" he started. I didn't answer as much harder smacks fell on my seat. I could feel how easily he was spanking me and already it hurt. I felt sticky from the whole situation and that made me feel dirty. Feeling dirty always makes me feel like I should be spanked, which didn't make me feel any less sticky.

The spanks got hard and he'd just started. I tried to take it.

"Maybe one more lesson might still teach you something," he told me, spanking quickly.

"Umpft," I responded. "Umpft, umpft, umpft."

When I read these stories, I always imagine that I'd get extra swats because my seat is big, not one of these "his large hand covered her entire bottom" types. It's not a good feeling, exactly, but it does excite me in a weird way, that I would have to be spanked all the more. But he was spanking just in a few spots and I found myself starting to fight him, I had to. Already I was crying some and it didn't look like he was going to let up. I asked, begged, cried for him to stop.

"Oh, no, chiquita, you still have much to learn," he assured me but he did start moving around. I was so embarrassed by how many places he could fit his hand on the target I was giving him. Through my jeans it didn't really sting but it hurt! I was really getting so sore and I begged some more, until I thought of the fact that when he did stop, my pants were coming down! I was in no shape to be seen, I'd die! I quickly switched to "sorry's" and tried to be more compliant. But it was so hard with him spanking me like that!

He seemed to have found the softest parts and was staying in those few spots. I couldn't help kicking and even swinging my arm but he didn't even notice. He held me across the back like I was a child, and where his arm held me, I didn't move a bit. His soft, firm voice kept reassuring me how much better I was getting with every painful spank. Finally he stopped but only to reach for the top of my jeans. I was sweaty and more, I was crying with pain and sobbing with embarrassment and I felt so sorry for all those girls I had read about and envied. My squirms were in a way that was probably turning him on, even though he'd stopped spanking me.

I have never been more relieved than when the hand at the top of my jeans pulled me off his lap.

"Do you think you can be good now?" he asked very seriously. I assured him I would, that I'd be very, very good and that I was very sorry and sorry he had had to spank me. He just told me to remember that it could always happen again.

I had fallen out of half of my bra and turned away to fix it and to give myself a chance to regain my composure and stop crying. If he'd sent me to the corner I'd have gone gratefully but that was not in store for me.

Deborah spoke with authority as she stated "We'll be wanting some privacy, I believe." She opened her purse and withdrew a wooden hairbrush and the scenario seemed chillingly familiar. "Will you wait for me in your room?" she asked, but it wasn't a question.

I was half glad to get out of there, in fact I closed the door behind me, I was so out of it, but on the other hand I was all the more scared and very sore already. Deborah opened the door and came in, closing it again behind her. The hairbrush, of course, was still in her hand.

"Are you going to take those down, or am I?" she asked menacingly. By now I knew I had no choice around here, so I did what she wanted, except slowly.

She sat.

"If I have to take those down for you, you are going to be the sorriest young lady in this city tonight," she predicted. I started crying again but at least the door was closed. I squeezed my legs together in fear and before I could move she stood up and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Oh, so that's how it'll be, will it?"

"No! No!" I cried, oblivious to the two outside, "I'll do it!"

"Too late," she informed me and my seat was bare and I was back facing downward. "Missy, you have just made a very, very big mistake." Deborah slapped me hard right where I was sorest and I howled. "Stop that!" she commanded. "Settle down!" A rain of spanks fell on my unprotected seat, right on the bare skin. They hurt!

She eased up some until I did settle down and finally she stopped all together. I couldn't resist a little breath of relief. "I don't want to do this at all," she lied, "and I am certainly going to make sure that I only have to do this once! And as for that foolishness about your panties, you know what I'm going to do about that!"

I was begging and "please'ing" and asking her not to but it didn't seem to make any difference. I guess I should have known but at the time I thought it was worth trying. Deborah waited and waited but then finally asked if I was ready to get the hairbrush. Of course I said no but she repeated herself exactly and followed it with, "That's two." I gulped hard, knowing I'd have to say it. Then she was already repeating, "Anna, are you ready to have me spank you with my hairbrush?" again. I said "Yes, yes!" trying to interrupt her but still she said, "That's three."

What happened after that I can hardly describe, not that I've forgotten a minute of it. She spanked with a snap that made each and every swat go right through me - I couldn't believe something could hurt that much! She did kind of the same thing as Jorge, spanking those few bad spots at first for a long time, then moving around. When she got low and kind of inside my cheek, I begged her, "not there, pleaseeee not there!"

She assured me that I would be spanked there and gave me a bunch right there to prove it and then another big bunch just on the other side. She promised me that "every square inch of my bottom" was going to get "every swat I had earned for it." At that point I just had to give up, I couldn't fight her anymore. I just lay across her lap and sobbed, bouncing from the reflex to her terrible stinging snaps.

I guess I would have been done then if I had cooperated better, because she finally stopped. She told me again how much she hated to do this and patted me with the brush. I jumped, even though it was light, and she sort of laughed at me. She said she didn't appreciate my making her job harder with my foolishness about my panties. She put her hand on the cheek away from her and smoothed it upward, pulling it flat down below. "And now I am going to make you very sorry you didn't cooperate when you needed to," she informed me.

"I AM sorry!" I protested but to no avail. I started struggling again but she had me completely under control. And it was true, I was sorry, sorry I hadn't pulled down my panties, sorry I needed to be spanked, sorry I read all those stories and got soft feeling while all those poor girls got spanked. I tried to tell her but she was having none of it.

"You're not sorry yet, not by a long way. You just think you are but just wait until I've really spanked you," she threatened. She pulled my cheek up again and started spanking, just in that one spot. Hard and stingy both at once and I was already soooo sore! Then she moved to the other side and I had to get each of the swats again over there!

My breathing was both panting and sobbing, I thought I would hyperventilate but she held me while I calmed down. She reached up and stroked my hair but then, with a voice that chilled me, she asked, "How old are you, Anna?"

I knew what that meant and I started sobbing again but this time she just waited. And waited. I told her, "Twenty four."

"Twenty," she said, tapping my bottom. "Four."

"And! How many times did I have to ask if you were ready?"

"Nooooooooo!" I wailed, "Owwwwwwww!" as she brought the brush down hard, "Two. Two!" I insisted and I thought I was being fair.

Those swats were so much harder! I couldn't believe the earlier ones weren't the hardest she could spank - though at least these didn't snap like the ones I'd already had. She counted out the twenty-four very hard swats - twenty-four on each side! I should have been done but she repeated her question.

"How many times did I have to ask if you were ready?"

"Three," I sobbed piteously. I didn't even care anymore, this spanking would never be over. Then she swatted me and I started caring again. She repeated her first two sets, acting like she hadn't already given them to me - and then, then! This new mom they'd given me spanked out a third set right in the middle! I couldn't even fight her, I just had to lie there jerking back and forth and crying and being very, very sorry.

She had spanked me for so long that when she was done I didn't really believe it. She let me lie there and cry and then slump down between her legs and cry some more. After a while she stood me up, handed me my poodle from my bed and stood me in the corner, where I leaned with my head against the wall.

After a long time I looked around and she was still sitting there. She got up and found me my robe and put it around me, then led me out to where the others were still waiting.

They stood up and Jorge looked at me sympathetically, I thought. As well he should. Deborah got her purse and at long last the dreaded hairbrush disappeared from sight.

"We'll be going - for now," Brunswick warned. "You had best de-lurk quickly."

I immediately agreed, trying to look contrite and sincere. Once the door was closed, I headed right back to the computer. So I had to stand, I probably sit too much anyway. What I need to do, I figured, was find just the right stories. No telling when they'd be back and I certainly wasn't going to read the by-laws. Now let's see, there was one about a handsome sheik.....

***

Julie looked at me speculatively. "Do you think this policy has ever encouraged anyone to respond, instead of just listening?"

"NOOO!" we laughed in unison.

Saying "No"

2006-10-25T20:19:00.000-07:00

One more of many interesting experiences from this last ShadowLane party – the experience of trying to say no. I’m sure more than a few women can recite my pontifications of giving a nice, direct, no-excuses “no” to a guy they don’t want to play with. And I’m sure when I’m on my soapbox I make it sound like I think it’s easy – though I know it’s not. Now I’m not saying that this was at all the same situation, but I did get a first-hand example of how hard it can be to say no, especially to say no very directly.

We were at a party Sunday afternoon down at Danny’s and he had quite a nice crowd gathered, including several people I didn’t know. This surprised me a little because I’m used to having gotten used to seeing most everyone by then – obviously I wasn’t paying enough attention Saturday at the banquet.

One woman I didn’t recognize was over between the bed and the bathroom – tall, fashionably short blonde hair, business suit, chunky heels – and she was already tall. Okay, I admit, I had a good idea that she was a top but as attractive as she was I figured I could let her tell me that. Oh, and the big F/M party had just gotten out, so that sort of underscored my impression.

I am not good at initiating one-on-one conversations – I know it’s hard for a lot of people, and I’m one of them – but I did manage to get her name and ascertain that she was having a good time or some such lame thing. We drifted toward the door of the suite – and the munchies – and she introduced me to her husband (I was not surprised) and he was likewise tall, attractive, mid-thirties, Texan. I congratulated their Longhorns for beating us in the Rose Bowl but they weren't big college football fans.

Never one to give up, I contrived to be in her area a little later and somehow managed to say something that allowed my to segue appropriately into “Are you interested in playing?” and – as I could have predicted, and with perfect control, she responded “Are you?”

So, okay, I’m not stupid, I have this situation pretty completely figured out, so I say, “Well, are you a bottom?” and as I’d expect, she says “No – do you bottom?”

Okay, let me explain that first, I have a tremendous weakness for attractive women; second, I try to be complimentary and supportive of everyone whenever possible; and third, I have not only respect but admiration for the woman tops I have met (more on that in another post someday, maybe soon). So, in short, saying no to this lovely lady was not something that came easily to me – in fact, in this case it did not come at all.

“Or not in public?” she offered as my mouth moved with no reasonable speech coming out. What I was thinking was “how do I say very definitely “no” without rejecting how she plays or who she is as a person?” Now you can say, don’t be silly, people understand – but I was operating on 4 hours of sleep for every 20 hours of super-high-pitched erotic excitement – times three or four by now.

“Or not...” Honestly, I forget what other excuse/offer she provided me with. By this time I did manage to say “Ah, no.” I did manage to save a little face because some attractive young woman was trying to drag me off to some other party emergency which, of course, was of no consequence.

So like I said, this was in no way like a woman trying to tell one man no while keeping herself open to approaches by other men – in this case I was clearly declining her mode of play and not the woman herself. But even so I did realize how difficult it is. (And I might mention that, naturally, as a guy top I don’t have a lot of experience saying “no” except in answer to “Aren’t you going to stop?” or “That’ll be okay, wouldn’t it?”)

Afterward, of course, all the best responses occurred to me, like “You make it a very attractive offer, but no, I don’t;” or “Well, no, I don’t, but if I ever do, I’ll be sure to check back with you,” so maybe next time I’ll be a little better prepared.

I was telling one woman about this and she asked “So you haven’t ever been spanked?” and I felt it only fair to explain – I have switched, some, with some – not even all – of the women I’ve been in long-term relationships with – which I guess, strictly speaking, was one reason I was hesitant to answer “Do you?” with a flat-out “no,” without adding a disclaimer like the guy at the end of the TV ads for McDonald’s new Monopoly game:

“Your chance of winning varies with participation. Contestants must agree to living arrangements and work out personality issues, if any. My right to the left side of the bed is non-negotiable. No purchase is necessary to win and does not affect your chance of winning. Offer is void where prohibited and in Puritanical states and states of mind or elsewhere if illegal, taxed, licensed, or freakishly abnormal, although highly immoral or just downright kinky is still okay.”

My Stories

2006-10-22T12:31:00.000-07:00

So here's something I'm actually pretty pumped about – after a lot of years of wanting to I have finally arranged to get some of my stories on-line. I never did work out getting my own website and I don't really want to use the one provided by my ISP, so I've put them up on Blogger. They're at Matt Anglen's Spanking Stories.

Over the past few years, with the thoughts of posting, publishing, or otherwise getting my stories read, I got them all pretty well organized into volumes, and made a table of contents describing the earlier ones and all, then printed off some booklets for my friends. One book is pure fiction and then the rest are in chronological order. The first ones were easy because everything had been prepared to be posted somewhere, which I did back in 1998-2000. Somewhere after that, however, I had a lot of works that weren't quite in publishable form and an awful lot more that was in pretty bad shape – imbedded in e-mails and all. But I did eventually extract about half of this and organize it as well.

Of my best, organized stuff I have about 100 stories. Mostly all by me, with influences of my partners or sometimes written by them influenced by me. But in any case, I'm sure reading 100 of my stories, if anyone ever tried it, would be like reading 100 Agatha Christies – even if you like them it gets old fast. So what I decided to do was make a "permanent" and "rotating" collection. I picked about 20 stories that I thought best represented my oeuvre to have up all the time and then I'm going to put up 6-12 stories for a month apiece. Then after a year I'm going to start over. I know better than to commit to write so much as a single good story between now and then – sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't.

So it was sort of funny, trying to choose these 20 stories – basically because I wanted to choose 50, and maybe I should have posted all 50 of the better ones and just left them up, because I do really like about half of them and have gotten really positive feedback on them. But I cut it down to 22 or something and I'll spread the remaining best ones out over the coming months. Something else that was funny was looking at the dates – my most prolific time was 1995 – 2002 and then I have three recent stories that I think turned out well. All the time I've been living with Cat, however – what happened there? Well, what really happened was that I've been trying to put together a novel, and write chapters, with minimal success. But any writing I have been doing, I've tried to fit it into one of the frameworks I had in mind, making the individual pieces less suitable as a stand-alone story. Third, my earliest stuff is a lot more vulgar than the recent works, even discussing the same situations – because prior to 1998 or so, stories were basically targeted at men buying printed erotica, so that was the only model I knew, while once I got on-line, I discovered a female audience that appreciated a little more discretion.

Another interesting thing (to me), though, was re-reading some of these stories. Some are written to be funny, some are written to catch a particular feeling from a particular moment, but a lot of them are largely written to be hot, and they are, if I do say so myself. In other words, I was a little surprised how hot I still found them to be, after having had them around for years.

Anyway, you shouldn't even be reading this, you should be over there, reading those – so I won't keep you – but I hope you enjoy them!

An Ideal Fourteen Inches

2006-10-19T21:06:00.000-07:00

Not as an endowment, of course – my God! Other than visually, perhaps, would a woman have a use for a man that big? Let's just say that I don't know, obviously...
No, what fourteen inches is ideal for, it seems, is good over-the-knee spanking implements, at least for me. As they get shorter they tend to lose effectiveness in that, basically, it seems like my hand gets in the way and I fear that I'm striking as much with my knuckles as my toy. If they get longer, they get harder to control – at least that's the first problem. Fourteen inches for otk seems just right. (Just right for me, Cat likes a twelve-inch limit for toys she uses otk).

This determination does become important, actually. You may be thinking it'd be best to just try something out and see, or hold it in your hand and guess, either one of which would work fine. Where this leads to trouble, though, is when I purchase a lot of "pervertibles" on-line, with little more than the seller's description of it.

Pervertibles, says David Stein, are everyday objects converted to nefarious purposes, primarily for spanking and BDSM. Hairbrushes, belts, and wooden spoons – and I have literally dozens of each – are high on the list of spanking toys, while other objects might be for restraint or touch/sensation play. I suppose a feather duster isn't a pervertible when used on your lover, unless you tie them up first, possibly with pantyhose...

And let's just say I have a lot of pervertibles, having gone through a stage of collecting – or merely accumulating – them, with a lot of help from E-bay and internet shopping. Most of these objects cost literally a dollar or so, definitely under five – plus five to seven dollars for shipping. Now, a dollar I can waste, I'll just buy one less bottle of water – but eight or ten gets a little steep.

Hairbrushes don't range up to fourteen inches, and I have a very short, very thick one that is very popular, but it's an exception. The better ones might make nine inches and normally I find less than eight a little disappointing. I ordered a maple "cookie paddle" which I believe was listed at about seven inches and looked quite promising but really arrived seeming more like six-and-a-half and, while cute, is not useful like I had hoped.
Cooking spoons are the ones where this really comes into play. I've seen some lovely spoons advertised made of great woods and supporting wonderful causes, but they're only eight inches long, which for a spoon is too short. The magic of a spoon, besides the fact that it lives in plain sight, is that the length and speed makes up for the low weight. Once again, we have a beautiful one (from a shop on Venice Beach) that's ten inches and lacks a lot of persuasiveness.

The "other" reason fourteen inches is ideal, however, is because of the "other" pervertible. One year as a safety award the now-defunct company I worked for gave out briefcase-style carry-alls. I usually find these awards to be useless, but keep them anyway, and in this case I'm glad I did. Besides numerous zippered compartments on the outside which I have yet to use, the bag has three large zippered sections. The first section is divided as if for files, perfect for separating paddles. The second section has interior zippered pockets – I used to keep my thumbcuffs in there (note, thumbcuffs do not qualify as a pervertible) and is a good big pocket for a large pile of smackers. Then there's a third pocket which is expandable (and always stuffed, it seems) where I mostly keep restraints and sensation toys, soft stuff and lotions, plus sometimes nice objects that I don't want scratched.

Longer toys can get folded or rolled and put in there but I've found that I don't really like to do this – they often come out bent or curled. And despite what we learned in geometry, the diagonal on this case is barely longer than the legal-sized width, so angling toys seldom helps.

I had a second victory when I was packing for an overnight trip. I don't really have a suitable small bag for my clothes and things – the next one up is a full-sized suitcase. However, this suitcase is about 15" x 24" inside, so I can perfectly fit the toy bag on one half and have the other half for clothes and shaving stuff. Along the top I run all the longer toys that I don't want rolled or folded – a strap that doubles to 18 inches, a shoehorn, backscratcher, and short looped cane, Cat's favorite narrow "Ladies' Strap," my own long narrow stinging strap, a faux birch, rubber loopy, paintstick, rawhide lace flogger and the like. Oh by the way, over half of which are pervertibles.
Maybe I can put up some pictures – with all the time I've put into pervertibles, I ought to be able to get a few posts out of it.

Carry On!

2006-10-11T20:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, I promised something a bit lighter this time:

Carry On!

Has anyone tried to get on a plane lately? I think a lot of the security panic is passe, and now these guards / inspectors / whatever are just plain bored, nosey, and looking to hassle paying customers. Case in point - I try to board with a perfectly harmless carry-on, it’s a normal size, it can easily be stowed in the overhead bin or under the seat in front of me. And what do I get? First it’s x-rayed, then grabbed off the conveyor by a woman wanting to search it by hand. Of course, the search is optional - I can always walk to JFK, if I’d prefer.

“You don’t have any checked luggage, sir?” Unaccustomed as I am to this mode of address, she must mean me.

“No, just this.”

“I see....”

“Is there a problem?”

“You don’t have any shirts with a collar,” she points out. Somehow, this sartorial faux pas has her at a loss.

“Vacation, you know,” I explain politely.

“But you have four neckties.” Forty thousand airport workers, I get a budding Agatha Christie. “You could tie up a flight attendant.”

“Mmmm. Been known to happen.” Not the response she was looking for. Better not joke around too much. “I wear them as a belt.”

“But you have a belt. Four, in fact. A brown one...” Yes, my thick wide western-style belt. “Two black...” One elegant, one casual... “And a red one?” Her eyebrow arches into her bangs.

“That’s a leash.”

“I see,” she repeats, and what she sees is my hairbrush. Holding it dangerously, she stares pointedly at my head. Hey, I'm not bald! Of course, the bristles are longer than my hair is...

Choosing her battles, she retreats, and returns the hairbrush to its rightful place. “Only one of these gloves?” Now she’s come up with a thin leather glove, right-handed.

“Yes. It’s for golf. Or - baseball? Maybe weightlifting.” Stick to the vacation motif, I tell myself.

“One plastic coat hanger,” she continues. There appears to be a pattern.

“For my bowling shirt,” I supply cheerfully.

“And it looks like someone lost a sandal,” she informs me helpfully, holding up one woman’s sandal - straight, flat, wood, rubber soled, and mateless.

“Yes - I’ll bet she regrets it already.” I look full at her, challenging her to challenge me.

Before she has the chance to do so, the gate agent stalks over.

“Tanya, is he clear or not? I want to close the door and go have a smoke.”

“He’s alright,” Ms. Backpack Cop concedes.

“Then stop being a brat and let him on the plane.” If it weren’t for nicotine, I’d probably still be there, discussing the brands of lotion I’m carrying. Yes, I need all six.

Grudgingly, she repacks my carry-on.

“You’ve made a wise choice, young lady,” I reassure her, but she doesn’t seem mollified.

“You’re all set,” she declares, glaring at me one last time. I return her look expectantly. “Sir.” She slides my pack gingerly across the table, as if it might bite her. Always a chance, I suppose. “Have a good flight.”

“Have a good stay,” I offer with a smile.

“Oh and sir?” It’s easy once you get used to saying it. It’s my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Round-trip ticket?”

“Sunday night return. Are they searching the outgoing passengers these days?” Even with the Fourth of July warnings, that seems excessive.

“New policy, maybe. Just a precaution. I’ll see you get through.”

Perspective on Power

2006-09-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

So I’m always a little concerned, in writing for this blog, I know I have a lot of readers already (thanks everybody!) but also that a lot of my friends are reading it and they have heard me say a lot of these things before, sometimes many times before. But I do want to get these things written down somewhere so this is a good place to do it...

One thing my friends have heard – I do some (very) minor acting, just enough that I have a working knowledge of theater and video, along with directing and believe me, no matter how small-time it is, there is no such thing as “minor” directing. And I’ve had some interesting auditioning experiences and learned a few things from that which I hope to post about sometime. But one thing that stands out, as far as acting goes, is that I am always cast as the villain. I mean, like always. The worst case was when I was offered a role of a 70-year-old villainous judge when there were three other, better roles needing to be filled that were age-appropriate (apart from the lead which I really wanted but it went to a very well-suited actor). When I turned it down the actor they got was in his early 60’s, at least.

I’ve demonstrated a decent enough range of acting skills and usually get very good reviews so it has always seemed to me that I ought to be offered some different parts. Now recently I auditioned for a Woody Allen role which was essentially Woody Allen playing himself and I must admit the guy they got did an excellent job – I would have had trouble exhibiting that overall incompetence for everyday life. So, disappointing but understandable.

Seeming change of subject here – I write a lot of fiction. You haven’t seen it since I don’t seem to finish a lot of it, though I’m thinking about a “companion” blog where I’d post my stories, mostly older stories. In any case, I almost always write from the bottom’s point of view. While I have two male-bottom pieces which, like I said, I haven’t finished (in one the gender was intended to be ambiguous but my native sexuality can through pretty clearly), that pretty much means that I’m writing with the main character being a woman. In fact, this has confused some people at some time, if my pen name is not gender-specific. I am aware of the reason I do this, it’s because, or mostly because, I’m not comfortable, usually, writing about how I topped a woman and especially not comfortable writing a string of stories about how I topped women, which may be why my party reports often never get finished.

I was having a vanilla discussion on script-writing and I was pointing out that the movie (or whatever) always sympathizes with the weaker character – or at least weaker most of the way through the movie, since they always end up on top. This is no huge realization. And I credit that to the fact that the viewer always relates to the weaker character, no matter how powerful the viewer actually is. A humorous take on this is the cell phone commercial where the president/ owner of the cell phone company talks to some young guy about “sticking it to The Man.” YG reminds him “but you ARE the man.” No matter, he relates to NOT being The Man.

Almost universally the character is the person not in power – the entire story is driven by the protagonist being blocked from what they want. This is because the audience does not feel in control. And this explains why I’m always cast as the villain, despite the frequent age disparities – because I come across as being in control in normal life, and this is emphasized on stage. I move with purpose, I probably stand up too straight and am too stiff; I speak clearly and loudly (less so for camera work) and I have a bad habit of, when I enunciate I clip my words, which sounds hostile – or certainly forceful. (Actually, it is fascinating to sit down and try to determine what exactly you need to do differently to portray a character much different from yourself). In fact, this realization is going to do me a lot of good since now I’ll find villain roles I like and audition for those.

It also helps explain why I, along with everyone else, am not satisfied with stories of unmitigated success (well, a certain number of real-life tales can be very interesting and entertaining) – so if I’m going to write any of these they should focus on the obstacles overcome, I suppose. I tried to think of what type of stories do have strong male leads, like action flicks, and I have played around some with a powerful private detective who, like an action hero, is opposed by many forces of evil (this bunch is humorous, okay?).

What’s unusual about this realization coming so late is that I tried stand-up comedy for awhile, and I have always known that the funniest target of a joke is yourself, and the best way to ruin a joke is with a smirky “I got the best in the end” twist. So why it took so long to realize this explicitly for fiction writing is something of a mystery, apart from my absolute absence of formal training.

Even while I’m writing this I’m imagining readers saying – comedy? that’s a joke, right? because my writing sounds so serious which is not how I am in person at all. So I guess the next post will have to be a little lighter.

Discpline and Punishment

2006-09-24T17:37:00.000-07:00

So – discipline. I don't like to apply discipline and I prefer not to, if another, reasonable alternative can be found – but I do when I have to and I try to look at it as the hurts I'm protecting her from, this person who is important to me, are far greater than the pain I could ever give her.

For instance, I had a friend who got into the scene and got wilder and wilder – which I take as a pretty clear message that she's not feeling "looked after," that she wants to know where the boundaries are and who's going to do what about it. Well, as usually happens, one time she approached a boundary and ended up blowing so far past it… she and a friend were in a bar, maybe in a scene club, I don't really remember. For some reason – maybe the guy next to her had annoyed her and she wanted to make him feel bad, maybe, as I said, she was just feeling like it'd be a wild thing to do, she started flirting as deliberately as possible with some random guy across the bar. Soon they were on the dance floor, kissing. Next thing she knows, she's out the back door, pinned against a brick wall with the guy's hands inside her minimal clothes and no intention of slowing down. The good news is some guy walked by and when her would-be rapist backed off a bit, she shoved him off and escaped back inside the bar.

You can imagine how scared she was to tell me – not because of how I was going to punish her, obviously she deserved and needed that – because she was afraid I would tell her that her behavior had been so unacceptable that she had abdicated her position of someone I would be acquainted with. On the other hand, she was so just sick with fear and recriminations that basically she couldn't function and she couldn't very well continue to interact with me in any form without telling me. I have a hard time sitting in silence waiting for a woman to get herself ready to tell me what she has to tell me but eventually the whole story came out.

Other women I've known seldom do crazy things – their problems are usually a matter of not meeting their own high expectations with an endless series of little disappointments – and I've always found that these "chronic" troubles are very dangerous to criticize because it sounds much too much like you're disapproving of the person, not the action. And when they can't bring themselves to change these things, they can feel rejected or worse. But I don't often have to deal with "acute" offenses – these same women seldom do anything that's particularly bad for them.

Even though I prefer to avoid discipline, I do know what's needed, both in terms of lecture and physically. To make myself okay with the situation I described above, I kept telling her "this isn't hurting as much as three years of reconstructive surgery" (since the guy showed an inclination to brutalize her as well as violate her). I also said, once, when she hesitated to comply, that "this isn't as embarrassing as having to explain to your daughters how you got raped" (her daughters were teenagers at the time).

I tend to play with women I have some type of relationship with, more than casual meetings – in other words, a woman who knows and trusts me. I think that's why after we've played one or two times she will want to play very very hard. I have interpreted this as meaning that when she needs real punishment, I have to go way past that. Maybe this is a mistake because her reaction to punishment is always amazingly more sensitive than her reaction to even the hardest play. And no matter how hard a woman likes to play, I do have a few tools at my disposal that are safe but completely intolerable. I define "safe" as not breaking the skin, no chance of broken bones or some kind of deep bruising, and I try to avoid raising welts (I try to avoid purple marks, too, but not too successfully). So these extra tools, which see little play time, are frighteningly stingy. They work by producing an absolute panic, an uncontrollable need to get away which, when it can't be fulfilled, leads to a sense of true submission. Typically when true punishment is called for I require a woman to submit to a heavy paddling, strapping, or both and then take her over my knee for a long session with one of these painful little implements until she has to admit to herself that she really did do something wrong – not "scene," not role-play, but real life.

If the preparation is just a strapping I have her kneel on the couch with her face on the cushions, hips raised or supported by cushions (I do this because the edge of my bed is about waist-level, which is too high), so her arms have to either be out in front of her or tucked with her hands under her chin. The strap has two layers of very heavy leather, not doubled – I use the open end. I strap her pretty conventionally to a normal limit and then coach her through a few dozen more (I never seem to be satisfied with the count I promise her so it usually has to go over).

Then I move up along the couch until my leg is even with her face. By shifting a little she can press her shoulder against my leg and wrap her arm around my thigh or calf. At the same time, by keeping her feet back against the arm of the couch, I can make her keep her bottom raised. Also, like this, she can feel basically held in place (encouraged, actually) just from the touch of my hand on her lower back and the feel of my leg just above her hip.

With a wide stance and a little bit of reach, I can still generate a powerful swing either conventionally from the side or at a high angle – typically I don't use the strap over-the-top for serious work, though the paddle I have can be used quite well this way. This part of the session is extremely difficult but I completely believe that we manage to create a feeling that we're in this together. Emotionally, the penitent's emotional pain is increased by my remarks like the "this doesn't hurt as much as" one. She also hears a lot about how she has endangered someone very important to me – herself, which I make her acknowledge. Frequently she'll refuse or question this, looking for repeated reassurance – which costs her dearly but I suppose she must think it's worth it.

This isn't the first she's heard this, though. Before the first stroke lands, she has had to take some time out to rid herself of any resentment or argument. Not corner time, but alone time. If she has issues after fifteen minutes, we discuss the whole situation and she tries again. Before, during, or after this I tell her, as calmly as possible, what problems I have with all aspects of her behavior. I pretty much dismiss the possible physical damage – cars and other objects can always be fixed or replaced. Instead I start briefly on bodily dangers and then move into emotional, relationship issues – sometimes, for instance, temperamental behavior might be basically a rejection of me, which is not something she wants to do; irresponsible behavior that endangers herself is something of a rejection of everyone in her life, which is also not her intent.

When she has reasonable issues, we discuss them. When she has emotional issues I usually listen to them – to separate out the reasonable ones – and the invalid ones ("so-and-so did such-and-such and she doesn't get spanked" or "she did worse to me," etc.) she has to take the time to overcome. Once I had a scene that never got past this stage on the first attempt and we weren't going to see each other again for two weeks – still we waited and of course the next day she called to say she was ready and sorry I wasn't there.

In short, I don't do the angry spankings to make her see the errors of her ways. Women who need to play that way have to get that from someone else, if they can. Yes, it hurts me for her to have a need that I can't fill, but it would hurt me so much more to ever be wrong, even once. In almost everything else my philosophy is: accept the fact that you'll be wrong sometimes, people cannot reasonably expect anything else and both you and they have to be able to let it go. But I hedge my bets when it comes to driving and I don't take any chances at all when it comes to punishment. You can say that this means that I don't trust my partner to forgive me (for a bad or inappropriate scene) but it's the best I can do.

Going back to the corporal aspects, sometimes I use a different preparation: alternating the paddle and strap done over the back of the couch (or arm of the couch, depending on her height). I used to say that the strap was for "hot" offenses like temper and the paddle was for "cold" offenses like stubbornness but I've concluded that that just seemed like I was showing that I could get madder or more stubborn than she was. I don't want to give that impression, though I fear it is very much true – and probably apparent. Anyway.

In addition to having a heavy strap for such uses I have a paddle that's extremely difficult to endure. It started life as a cutting board and is made of thick, heavy, hardwood. Although it's not long like a frat paddle, it's fiddle-shaped which gives great both-cheek coverage and is so wide that it has incredible heft. I try to get a bent-over position that eliminates the bun-thigh crease so that the paddle is sure to land flat – this avoids those awful purple crescents high on the thigh where the edge came down on it. Since it was a cutting board it's polished smooth and has all rounded edges so a lot of the real danger has been removed, but it's still very clear how school vice-principals maintained order with just a few swats over clothes. My only complaint is that the handle is small and uncomfortable but I suppose if I ever got a better grip on it I'd make someone bite off her own tongue.

From all reports, the first school-style swat with this (school style minus the clothing, that is) completely clears your mind of all other thoughts, concerns, worries, regrets, misgivings, grudges… having admitted you need this has just become a very clear admission that you've done something seriously wrong and that you are in serious serious trouble. I think a first-timer might believe she can still survive this if I stop at six but has few misconceptions when the count heads for twelve. After only a dozen, usually, I switch back to the heavy strap which, even applied straight on (rather than downward), hits very hard. So there's two dozen of those.

At this point I do something that I know not everyone will agree with and some people will say disqualifies this as a punishment session but first of all, it's my show, and second of all, I've been there, the entire session works. So I stop and apply a thick layer of aloe vera gel. Yes, it feels good and alleviates the burning but she's still sore underneath and it protects the skin which is absolutely essential. I rub it in well and make sure there's no excess which I know feels good but otherwise, even this early on, she may have signs of drying, chaffing, and some small bruises (come to think of it maybe I should use it before we start).

Once this first step has been applied, I get out a small mister bottle – normally used for touching up hair-do's. Her bottom, still in the same over-the couch position, is thoroughly wetted and then soundly paddled with a short thick rubber paddle. For some reason the rubber paddle produces an entirely different kind of pain and after bracing for the power of the heavy paddle and heavy leather strap the super-stingy rubber comes as something like an electric shock. Probably its biggest contribution is that it shakes the body out of its resistance mode. If I've had some problems with this woman before (in terms of requiring a lot of punishment) I also have a version with holes in it.

The process is repeated – paddle, strap, lotion, water, rubber paddle – and then reversed. In this set-up, our connection is maintained not just through the two doses of gel but with a continued touch on the lower back. I try to keep my hip against hers as well unless I have to back up to swing harder.

As I mentioned earlier, the fiddle paddle can be used over-the-top from the opposite side – in fact, it's pretty ideal for it, well sized and shaped to match a normal derriere or with double swats on alternating sides for a larger lady. Because of this I may give the last application of the paddle over-the-top or apply it conventionally followed by over-the-top.

However I prepare the woman, it leaves her mentally spent and she requires something of a break. If I put her over my knee too immediately she feels savagely beaten; if I wait too long it might feel like play. And while the break may include a check to see if she's "all right" – still breathing, hasn't sprained her wrist or hit her head (weird things happen) – it does not include coddling of any kind. All of that can wait, in real time it will all be over in a few minutes anyway.

I prefer a certain position to punish a woman over my knee, if I can get it, when I expect that she'll instinctively fight. She does this despite my telling her that her struggles are a silent (ha!) argument against what I am doing while it is only what she has made me do. I sit on the edge of the low couch so that one thigh is straight out and flat while the other points out to the side. I have her bend over my one thigh and put her elbows on the floor, then I lift my foot over at least one of her calves. Regardless of what's been done or said before, it is impossible to be in this position without clearly realizing that you've done something very wrong and you're now definitely going to be well punished for it.

As I arrange her over my knee, trying to do so without inflicting incidental punishment, my attitude has moved all the farther from personal anger, annoyance, or hurt to entirely disappointment and regret at what lies ahead. I remind her that I don't want to be punishing her this time and I definitely don't want to ever have to do it worse (which is entirely true). That her inconsiderate actions are making me do something that I dislike and find difficult. That I'm willing to do this for her if this is what it takes to protect her but I certainly don't like it. I think she needs to recognize this for what it is – an imposition on me when we could be pursuing much more pleasant and playful activities which we will now have to forego.

As I said in the beginning, I have two tools for this punishment – both light and both intolerable. Actually both are also rather quiet so if you can dispense with the preparation you could execute this portion without too much sound privacy. The first tool is a small rubber flogger, three loops of rubber with a surprisingly heavy feel despite having little lasting effect. Swatted it is difficult to take, snapped it is impossible. The second is an extra-soft, light doubled cane – rattan formed into a tight loop on the end which eliminates a lot of its flex.

Either of these implements produces a feeling of absolute panic – a feeling of real danger, an impression that real injury is occurring and accumulating. After surprisingly little of this, even the most docile, accepting transgressor has a natural flight response, which is completely nullified by the position she finds herself in.

In contrast, I can proceed with complete calm. Being able to be rational and being able to see what effect I'm having on her poor bottom, I don't have to worry that I am shredding her skin down to the bone even though it feels that way to her. Her side and hip are against my stomach, my foot and ankle are right in front of her where she can hold me for (emotional) support, and I have one hand free to keep her steady or trap a wayward hand.

There's another reason for my calm – I can work these tools rapidly to good effect virtually without effort, allowing me to completely focus on what I'm saying and on being heard. As she protests I tell her that this is what she asked for when she behaved the way she did, that this is what happens to young ladies who hurt others' feelings or don't take care of themselves, that this is a short, minor unpleasantness compared to the other possible consequences.

It's usually when she takes exception to the word "unpleasant" that I come down on her with the full force of what might have happened – she might have been hurt, she might have hurt someone else, she may have lost many friends, she may have lost me as a friend. I list them off once and then go back through one at a time – "did you want to be hurt?" If she says "I don't care" then she has no complaint about what I'm doing, does she? When I get to our relationship – did she want to lose me; does she know how hurt I'd be; does she know how important she is to me – since she certainly has not been acting like it; does she know how hurt I am that she'd take such a chance; can she blame me for trying to prevent it? I have never once had a partner oppose me for spanking her to protect our relationship.

Once the tears start flowing they're not too likely to stop, so I can switch to hand-spanking at any time. Instantly the sting stops and the smacks drive it out all the more but emotionally the cleansing goes on. I encourage it, telling her to get it all out, let it all go; that she's getting just what she needs, how good this is for her. As long as I keep it firm it doesn't have to be hard and by the time it's over we're both ready for it to be.

Then, as she kneels and turns into me for a hug, the healing and recovery can begin, right? Well, I like to think that it starts a long time before that – maybe as far back as when she decides she's going to tell me what she's done. But whenever it starts, this is it in full force – I get her to promise to take better care of herself, to be more careful, that I'll help take care of her, that we'll stop worrying about this and put it behind us, that she'll ask for help when she needs it because I know she'd help me if I needed her to. That she's really a good girl and things will be better in the future, even if it's a slow process. If there's anything she doesn't want to completely agree with, she can go back over my knee – and I'd probably do it, too, since I don't really think that this phase provides much lasting physical discomfort. But then again, it's never come up.

When you read this, it sounds brutally harsh. Honestly, she winds up in something of a daze and will be sore for days – and worries that she looks awful, though a self-conscious smile can make any face beautiful. She's taken far more spanking than any non-scene person would receive for any offense and I'd go so far as to say that it might be too much for another scene person who didn't know me as well and wasn't as accustomed to me (or basically didn't have the level of trust in me) – but all of these factors are considerations I make. We've tried different ways and some felt inadequate while others felt too harsh, even if it was actually lighter. Really, most often the hardest part is letting her leave afterward.

One Support System I've Tried

2006-09-20T20:35:00.000-07:00

The System

A friend of mine was having some trouble and we got together to discuss a system to help her keep up with the activities she was interested in. I thought I would post them here in case someone wanted to design their own system along these lines.

At the time my friend was having trouble staying away from her on-line role-playing game (non-scene) long enough to pay proper attention to her dog, get enough exercise, clean, or socialize – all activities that actively fight depression. Other times she was sleeping too much rather than doing what she should, and on top of that she wanted to be focusing on her writing, which she was not. Initially we discussed some savings and money management issues but she felt she had that pretty well under control. After discussing her goals and challenges with her, I proposed the following standards.

The standards work on a points system.

Standards:

Activity with your dog – once per day for at least 20 minutes. The first miss is -1 point.

“Raw” Writing – at least four separate days per week for at least 1 hour at a time; at least twice between Monday and Thursday Editing, revising, researching, etc. is extra. The first missed session is -1 point. No credit for partial hours.

Exercise: 5 standard (20-30 min) workouts per week; at least three during M-Th. -1 point for the first missed workout.

Cleaning, including laundry – at least 8 hours per week (she said she needed this many to catch up), at least 5 done before any gaming on Saturday or Sunday. The first hour missed is -1 point.

Socializing – attend 1 regular event with other people per month; get together with friends (other than me) at least three times per month. Each week that an event is missed is -2 points.

Punctuality: on-time. The first time you’re late is -1 point per twenty minutes late or fraction thereof. Driving aggressively because you’re late is -2 points for the first instance.

Gaming – no more than 3 hours per weeknight, 12 hours total M-F, 4 hours per weekend day; 8 hours total Sat-Sunday. Total allowance is less one hour per point from the previous week. The first over-playing incident is -0.5 points per hour or fraction thereof.

Sleeping: no more than 10 hours per day and 63 hours per week spent in bed. First incident is -0.5 points per hour or fraction thereof.

Multiple Instances - the penalties listed are for the first instance in each category each week. A second instance in the same category and week carries 2X the penalty; a third instance 3X, etc.

Allowance – you have an allowance of five points per week – there will be no penalty for the first five points.

“Offset” points – you can earn offset points to reduce your penalty. One full hour spent with the dog, writing, or cleaning will offset one gaming session of up to two hours. One additional workout will offset one session of up to 1 hour of gaming time. No credit for partial hours with the dog, writing, or cleaning. No credit for extra socializing time.

Gaming Budget Reductions – The initial gaming budget is as high as 20 hours per week, if used properly. However, every point earned in the current week reduces the next week’s total gaming time by 1 hour.

Classes can count as one social activity per month. Class standards: every assignment must be completed, turned in, and graded B or higher. (-1 point per letter grade below B, missed assignments scored as “F”). Every class must be attended (-1 point per hour for first class missed). Final course grade must be an A (her standard) (-1 point per letter grade below A per week of the course)

The Other Half

As far as the consequences behind all of these rules, here's what I told her:

Now that we’ve set up the standards that you're expected to meet I’ll describe the other half of the system, where we deal with cases of you exceeding your points allowance.

We will get together every two weeks but only address your behavior vs. expectations once per month, leaving every second get-together to do what we want.

We’ll run a Saturday-to-Friday review to accommodate weekend meetings. For two weeks after the review you will still need to track your behavior but I do not expect you to exceed your allowance – if you do we may need to change the system. It’s during the second two weeks of the four week cycle when you may have problems. Even then you should be able to keep under the allowance if you only miss one event in each of several categories.

If you’re not over your allowance for either week, you can choose to be spanked or not – whichever you think will do you the most good.

I expect most weeks to be zero, one, or two points over, especially if the discipline is effective. I will be glad, rather than disappointed, if you meet expectations every time – it will mean your life is in good shape, not that the expectations are too low. For the weeks when you exceed your allowance, however, you’ll have to be spanked and then punished.

Since you like spanking – at least to some extent – you have to get your fill of that first before anything could be applied that would serve as a deterrent. This will consist of a thorough spanking applied with some of the more tolerable implements – hand and leather-backed tools, mostly. We may find that we have to apply one, wait for your desire to rise again, and apply a second one – and so on until you’ve had your fill. Then you’ll be ready to be disciplined.

In this way the penalty for each point can be significant and can serve as a true motivation when you are considering meeting your standards or letting something slide.

I have an offset billet strap just for this purpose. It’s almost two inches wide and very heavy leather, 18 inches long when doubled. The tails end will be most effective, even though they are on top of one another, not side-by-side. I know just one tail would have more sting but the two together will be felt the longest.

Once you’re adequately prepared you’ll bend over to be punished for each point at ten strokes apiece. If you have excessive points in both weeks we will deal with the earlier week, give you a break, then account for the second week.

This sounds severe – it is and it is intended to be. One point per week, or two points in one week and none in the second, should be difficult but bearable; two points per week should be daunting.

My intention is that the punishment for each point over your allowance will be a significant deterrent and that you will choose to meet the standards, even at some inconvenience, rather than accepting falling even a point or two short – and that if you are falling short, you make a intentional, concerted effort to catch up or, at the very least, avoid even one additional point and the associated additional punishment.

The system has three strengths: clearly defined and achievable standards and consequences; a framework that fulfills any need for recreational spanking; and a strong disincentive to fall below the standards you have agreed to. In this way, I’m hoping that it will make it easy for you to have the structure you need and achieve what you want without the pressure of unreasonable expectations.

Our Latest Object d' Art

2006-08-07T21:05:00.000-07:00

We managed to pick up this delightful little object at our favorite LA flea market one weekend recently – it appeals to me in so many ways.

First of all, I'm a fan of "found porn" – unintentionally pornographic-looking or sounding items that may very well have innocent purposes in life as well... and a practical extension of this, household objects with naughty applications.

In addition to this, I actually do like the black leather/ chrome/ rubber combination and the geometric, graphic design shape. This does almost qualify as a work of art, and is at least as attractive as plenty of other WOA's I have seen in my life.

It's pretty unique, and with all the opportunities we all have to fill the house with items that are far from unique, I like to reserve my space for items that really are a little bit special; and, getting back to my first point, it clearly can't be what it appears to be on first glance (or I wouldn't have it on open display...)

In case you're still wondering, these are stoppers for wine bottles. To the best of my knowledge they have never been used for BDSM play.

Uncanny Caning

2006-08-03T19:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm no expert, that's for sure, but I know how to give a very enjoyable caning, and would be glad to hear from others who have suggestions. First of all, this is a caning to enjoy, not to fear, so it all depends on what you want. We have two canes, a medium and a thin. Both of them work best if you kind of "wave" them so that they flex on their own. That gives a fast, sharp little tap. The medium has a deeper feel and is more difficult to get swaying on its own. The thin one is easy and is all surface sting but can sting a lot. Men should start with the medium (as a caner) and women the thin unless you have very strong wrists.

If you're starting out I'd suggest lying flat on the bed - it's a lot more tolerable. If this isn't enough, you can put a pillow under your hips. Sometime if you want it worse you can be on your knees which'll tighten your bottom, or stand and grab the seat of a chair with your knees straight (maybe legs slanted slightly forward), and then it gets harder as you bend farther, putting your elbows on the chair or grabbing behind your knees or grabbing your ankles. Except that you have to be over 18 and no one over 18 can actually grab their ankles, but it sounds scary, doesn't it?

So you're lying flat, let's say, and your considerate spanker is flicking this cane. After a few vicious cuts through the air to get your adrenaline going, he holds it just off of your bottom and snaps it lightly so it smacks you. You'd better let him know how much sting you're feeling because it seems like, from his end, that he's doing it way too lightly. Ideally, he holds his hand right where the cane will come down just on the near cheek and then whip forward onto the far cheek. Otherwise the far cheek has all the fun. Yes, it takes some practice and communication, if you can both overcome the embarrassment of the bottom giving that much feedback.

He should smack you in this very stingy way maybe 100 times or maybe twice that so your bottom has a good (intense) overall sting. Then what I like to do would be something like "twenty by twenty," where he gives you twenty sharp little strokes. After that, he brings his wrist back - his arm doesn't have to move - and gives you one good hard quick smack. It will seem like just a good little flick to him but on your end it'll be like a bolt of lightning! Meanwhile, he goes back to the little strokes. I'm told this works best if the new little strokes are away from the bigger stroke because otherwise they take the sting out of the bigger stroke. As the name implies, this repeats 20 times - or whatever you want, of course.

As far as placement, of course sensitivity is distributed about the same as everything else, with the medium-low part of the bottom being able to enjoy the most of it. But if you're doing it right, you can use it all over. I would keep the hard strokes away from the back of the knees by about four inches on top and a couple on bottom and probably a good eight inches above the heels. On the back avoid hard strokes on the area between the ribs and the top of the hips.
For this type of caning I like to hold the cane with my thumb on top so that it flexes over the end of my thumb. "Proper" grip for serious correction is probably completely different and I think can be seen at the SixOvTheBest website. The whole process is very tiring on the wrist so you may want to have sessions get longer with practice.

You'll probably like the light strokes so well you'll want to get them on the front, too. If you lie on your back I'd keep even the light strokes above the knee and below the throat. If you're nervous at first you can wear a bra - thin fabric doesn't seem like it'd be much protection but we all know that's an "old wives tale."

Please try this and post how it worked out - with photos and vid clips if possible. That way if you're making any serious mistakes we can help you correct them!

I Met This Guy On Line...

2006-07-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

Some of my thoughts on women dating through the scene personals (Another re-post some of my friends may recognize).

I heard another one to add to my list this weekend – to a list that already includes "e-mail," "afternoon," and "discrete," we'll add "I don't have a phone." What's this a list of? How about euphemisms for "I'm married."

If you get tangled up with a ring-finger fink, as I call them, someone who's married or involved but not admitting it, about all that you can tell yourself is that it wasn't you who did anything wrong, it was him, entirely.

Just because a person places a personal ad, or places one on the internet, or places one on a "scene" message board, doesn't mean that she's given up her right to – well, to anything. You, my loyal reader, are very probably a good person – certainly a good, probably great person to the right partner - and you deserve someone who treats you well!

I don't mean this as a lecture – like I said, you've done nothing wrong – and hopefully if you find yourself in this situation without wanting to be you can get out of it pretty quickly, but I do know of one woman who went on for a long time without knowing that the man with whom she thought she was building a long-term (if very long-distance) relationship was married. I would never criticize someone for being too trusting, too hopeful, even too naïve – but I do think people should get into things with their eyes – and ears – open.

Okay, I just read "He's Just Not That Into You" which might go a little overboard, but let me approach it like this: I've been a single guy, truly looking for a relationship, like many women say they are. I was not afraid that some woman would "stalk" me or "out" me to anyone – especially since I only had one relationship going at any one time. Guys shouldn't be, and shouldn't claim to be, worried about "stalkers" – maybe they're annoying but a guy is not really going to be in any physical danger.

If I was going to play with a woman, she deserved my name, address, license plate (okay, it's a vanity plate, and cute), home phone number, and at least some insight into my personality. We could meet in public places even in my hometown. She always knew when it was convenient to call and when it was less convenient but there were never "forbidden" times for any reason. The only reason a guy has to forbid you to call is so that his wife or girlfriend doesn't answer, overhear, or ask who he's talking to. I have kids and when they're around they understand that sometimes, believe it or not, Dad gets a phone call.

***

break for funny story –

When I was first getting to know Cat, this other woman practically was stalking me – she wasn't in the scene and I gave her very little encouragement, but she was an expert – she'd arrange for a group of us to get together and then everyone would seem to be paired up except the two of us; she'd want to get together for a casual meal; she needed help studying for a new computer program at work (and then showed up with a fancy take-out dinner). So we're working on some material on a Wednesday night, she wants to take a break (she's not exactly a workaholic) and my pager goes off at nine at night. I go into the bedroom and make a call – to Cat – and she's flying into LAX, two hours away. I come out of the bedroom, hint for 15 minutes, and finally say, well, I need you to go.

She's one of these people who challenge things she doesn't want to hear, making you either lie or reassure her (as in "Are you telling me I'm fat?") so she says "What, do you have a date?" Usually I'm pretty blunt with these people but I don't even remember what I said – very possibly, "Well, yes."

I got back home in time to put on a clean shirt for work.

Stalker-girl still didn't get the message until the time we were in the living room and Cat came out of my bedroom with a rolling suitcase. That pretty much did it.

***

Back on track here: secondly, I had a strong desire to get with and/ or be with the woman I was seeing – I had the kids every second weekend so if we were going to see each other on those weekends then it had to be at my place and without playing but otherwise I was always looking for a chance to get together. I made crazy weekday dinner dates two hours away that got me home at ridiculous hours, offered to combine a vacation day with a three-day weekend to fly across the country on no notice, and tried to add a weekend to a business trip to be able to afford to visit a woman who was otherwise too far away. I missed the occasional trip to the gym, I arranged not to work late, I skipped a trip to the bar with friends – sometimes just to be on the phone for hours.

I have to admit that at the time these women almost always had a nicer living space than I did – that's just the law of averages considering my hovel overlooking the Pit of Doom Annex – so I visited them, but if they did come to my place I didn't hesitate to introduce them to my friends, kids, or colleagues, or tell my colleagues that I was seeing someone. And I never hesitated to meet her friends. These are the things a relationship is about. It didn't take months of planning to arrange a weekend together, even cross-country – yes, something might interfere now and then, but not consistently for, say, six weeks.

As far as I'm concerned, this is the absolute very least you deserve from someone you're playing with – if the two of you claim to be interested in a relationship. If he limits you to e-mails and chat, he needs silence and secrecy. If he limits when you can call, he's afraid of who might be around – and we're not talking about his mother – or he shares his answering machine with someone he doesn't want to know about you. If he has huge time commitments when he can't have you around, that's a bad sign – why shouldn't you go to his kid's soccer practice with him? If all his vacation time and holidays are already spoken for, someone in his life is a lot more important than you are. Classes, volunteer work, working out, working late – frequently legitimate excuses but all things that can be cut back once the two of you want to spend more time together. After all, his real reason for doing a lot of these things was to consume his time until he met someone like you.

Ladies, I've heard of women running ads and getting buried in responses – of course maybe that's just the ones I hear about, and I'm sure a cute picture helps. But just because you want a guy who's into spanking doesn't mean you have to lower your standards, you just have to increase the radius of your search a little – and believe me, an internet ad certainly does that! I have answered ads from all over the country – how we were going to work the distance thing I don't know, but I was ready to try! And sometimes it doesn't work – sometimes the person who's right for you isn't the type to answer personal ads, which makes it harder, I admit.

So guys, be honest – you're not going to get away with very much for very long anyway. Yes, you can victimize some poor woman once in a while – is this the kind of thing you want on your conscience? To get to spank a woman one time? If you're that desperate, get a divorce.

And ladies, be honest with yourselves as well. He's telling you a lot, whether he puts it into words or not. If you just want some guy who'll smack your bottom because you need it and you don't care that his heart is elsewhere, there're plenty of us out here. But if you want the guy who's right for you who also enjoys putting you over his knee, he'll treat you like he ought to and you'll know it – and there's plenty of "hims" out there as well!

And by the way, I'd recommend that if you want to be into the whole spanking scene and not already in a relationship, it's easier to find someone who's also into the scene along with being right for you, rather than trying to add the scene to a vanilla relationship. Just my experience, your results may vary...

Goldie's Quest for Bears

2006-07-12T21:11:00.000-07:00

Cat and I went down to "The OC" (Orange County) the first weekend of July for an excellent party hosted by Goldie and the Bear, where we got to make some new friends as well as joining up with several old ones.

Along with hosting the party, which was held on a Saturday afternoon in an idle dungeon (always nice to have one lying around), Goldie has embarked on a project of collecting teddy bears for OC children in need. Since it sounded like a good cause, I got about a dozen teddy bears for them that look like this (pretty cute, huh?):

I'm sure Goldie can explain her campaign better than I can, so to find out about it, click here:

Goldies and The Bear

or the bottom line is, you can send a check or go out and buy one or more new teddy bears and send them in or hand-deliver them to the August 5 party like we intend to. From their website:

ship your teddy bear to:

BEAR c/o
PO BOX 78555
Corona CA
92877

New teddy bears only please, suitable for children (naturally!)

Good luck, Goldie and Bear - and thanks for a great party! (more on that later, I'm hoping)

What the Spanked Woman Needs

2006-07-09T17:43:00.000-07:00

Is that a sufficiently pompous title for everyone? You just know you're not going to agree with whatever I choose to say next, don't you?

In this particular case I'm not talking about every spankee woman – just a certain "type" of woman I've met, more than once – okay, stop complaining, there's a lot to be learned by recognizing your "type" and observing others. I always find it a lot easier to see traits and consequences of behaviors in others than in myself, don't you?

This particular type of spanked, or needing-a-spank, woman is the one who's always right. No, not the ones who think they're always right, the ones who actually are. She's analytical and critical and usually know what's the best thing to do. A lot of times she'll get in a relationship, even with a fairly forceful guy, and before too long she's making all the decisions herself. The guy is mostly fine with this, because she's usually right. And when he's not, he does it his own way anyway. But the woman gets sick of making all the decisions, of being responsible for them all the time.

This is one type of woman I see getting interested in a domestic discipline relationship. She is acutely aware of every mistake she makes (surprisingly to some of us, not everyone is). She has a hard time letting go of the ones she does make. Thinking back, it's the first thing she remembers about any past events - what went wrong, how it could have been better. Also, always being right leads to becoming very domineering over time. When she announces what the right choice is – and once she does it's usually obvious – everyone feels compelled to follow. Unfortunately, though, sometimes spouses and partners get sick of it. Sometimes it's for no good reason they can verbalize – they're just tired of someone always knowing the right thing to do. Sometimes it's because every time they argue they're wrong – or sometimes they lose the argument even when they're right.

Different women who share this personality trait deal with it in different ways, and in different ways at different times of their life, with some of them getting interested in a DD arrangement. They look for a man "strong" enough to stand up to them, who won't always leave all the decisions to them. And not too surprisingly (at least to us spankos), if they get too argumentative, or make choices that make everyone miserable, or do something emotionally inconsiderate even if it's logically correct, they would prefer to be spanked than to have their partner be mad, or sulk, or leave them.

Finding a man who meets this qualification – just this one – is fairly easy. Plenty of men are very decisive, regardless of how good their judgment or track record is. Men are more likely to be willing to act on their own authority and accept the consequences as necessary. A lot of men will address indecision by doing something, anything, rather than "wait and do nothing." And if a woman asks a man to indulge these behaviors, she ought to have a high level of success. Getting a man to do things his way is not usually a difficult task.

What becomes difficult for her to accept is doing things his way when he's not always right – or even often right. This becomes all the worse when he cares less about making mistakes than she does – or fails to see or admit his mistakes. Combine this with a woman who is hyper-aware of mistakes and views (and reviews) each one as a personal failure and shortcoming and the relationship becomes impossible.

So I would say, just generally speaking, that the spanked woman needs to find a man who is wrong even less often than she is. This may be difficult, especially when she rolls in all the other traits she's looking for including current situation, mutual attraction and willingness to paddle her bottom on a regular basis. The good news is that if it's easy to get most men to do things their way, it's even easier with one of these men. And one would think, all other things being equal, that a man like this would prefer a woman like her.

But since this is my blog and my opinion, I would say that her responsibility doesn't stop at finding this guy and bending over with her panties down on a regular basis. I have always felt that submitting to domestic discipline does not entitle someone to a lot of annoying or unacceptable behavior. If you're spanked for a tantrum you need to make an honest effort to avoid future tantrums. If a woman is going to ask her partner to make decisions, she is going to have to accept those decisions – at least a lot of them. Accepting doesn't just mean going along with them, it means supporting them. Before and after. No endless questions that not-so-subtly imply that she thinks the decision is wrong, or might be wrong. No claims of "just wanting to understand" his thinking. No forcing him to paddle her to get her to go along every time he decides something. Difficult? Oh yes – that's why there are lots of spankings at first. But she has a responsibility to try to reduce the number of times she does that – just as he has a responsibility to try to choose what is best for more than one person and accept the credit or blame afterward.

I don't think anyone would expect such a capable woman to have her partner make all or most of the decisions in their life, so there will be plenty that she makes herself. What she claims she wants, though, is a man who will recognize when she's making a mistake and stop her. Maybe the best agreements wouldn't specify what type of things she'd be punished for, but exactly how many tries she gets to convince him she's right before she has to cooperate. No one in their right mind would get into a relationship that invites endless fights – if he stands up to her, there has to be a limit on how much she argues with him – otherwise, who could blame him for just giving up on it?

Afterward is every bit as important as before. She cannot (without invitation) treat every bad outcome as a learning opportunity - He has probably already learned about as much from it as he is likely to. And she has to remember that bad outcomes do not always indicate bad decisions – unforeseen things are always happening, while hindsight is 20-20 – and I don't mean "get your hiney in sight for 20 with the paddle and 20 with the strap" though that may be a really good idea. Hopefully, the decision maker made the best choice with the information available. So no post-mortems, not under any disguise.

One more comments on decisions: if it's a tough decision, whatever it is, it probably doesn't matter which side you choose. Yes, one might lead to some good things or some bad things while the other will lead elsewhere – but if, all things considered, one was better than the other, it wouldn't be a tough decision, would it? If you knew one choice would lead to bad things, wouldn't you avoid it?

Einstein said (I've heard) that when he was faced with a tough decision, he'd flip a coin – then ask himself how he felt immediately upon seeing the result. In other words, if the coin flip said "yes, retire to Miami" and when he saw it he was disappointed, then he'd stay and teach at Princeton, trusting that his instincts had considered everything that he couldn't always put logic to. If a coin flip said "yes, form a rock band" and when he saw it he felt inspired, well – obviously that never happened.

So here is this spanked woman, just trying to be happy and we hope that she is. If - in addition to the perfect caring loving partner - I could give her one thing, it would be this: the ability to accept mistakes, even repeated mistakes, and move on. Much more difficult, I know, than accepting a week of the hairbrush on the sit-spot, but, believe it or not, even more useful.

Back At'Cha, Angel Brat

2006-07-09T12:39:00.000-07:00

I've been getting a lot of visitors from Tracy's blog over at Angel Brat - a cute little diary. Thanks, Tracy! For those of you who didn't come from there, check her out!

Here's what she says about herself:

Name: Tracy
Location: Southern United States

"I'm in my 20's, happily married to a wonderful man who spanks me because he loves me and because I ask him to."

Angel Brat

As you probably know, I'm a fan of romantic, relationship spanking (especially to read about) as well as recreational spanking between friends - this one falls into the first category...

Our Acquiescent Pixie

2006-07-08T12:10:00.000-07:00

10 AM Friday, Las Vegas time:

text to kristen: climax Tues?

kristen: no.

to: well we have one waiting for you

re: ;-)

kristen, Cat, and I had made plans to play in Las Vegas back in March and in the intervening weeks she and I e-mailed in an exchange bordering on obsession. I would check my e-mail at early-morning hours and mid-afternoon, partly due to the time difference that put her three hours ahead of us; kristen once ran home from work between meetings to read and respond with words she was unwilling to use on her work computer. And now...

One PM text from kristen – on the plane and on time 

She's tied up with work until the last minute and then faces a long flight, she'll be getting in right at 8. And we will definitely pick her up at the airport, because I want to play a game you only get one chance at. kristen hasn't played with us much before and has never been to Vegas, making it perfect for the blindfold game. She has to give up and trust us completely – not really knowing where we're going (though she has a good idea) and no visual assurances of who we are. It's a lot to ask, a lot to give up – and as I said, a disappearing opportunity because once you've gotten to know your Tops well it loses its effectiveness. Another reason for all the e-mails, to establish the trust to play this game. And once we start, I don't want to be trying to react to her – I want to know what we'll be doing and that it'll be okay.

So just after 7 we head for the airport – I've learned that with bars, airports, and most other meeting places the man ought to arrive first, rather than leave the woman standing around waiting. Maybe a too-old-fashioned thought for modern, enlightened women but I'm not anxious to change it.

Eight PM at McCarren - The flight's on time, we're on time.

Cat and I stake out the baggage claim – which, of course, is a long way from the arrival gate but as close as we can get these days. Struck by the irrational fear that we'll miss her, particularly as the minutes drag by – though we have cell phones, nothing can really go wrong and it doesn't. One minute we're impatiently waiting, the next she's there standing before us – a smiling dark-haired pixie, thoroughly intent on enjoying herself. She tells us of all the barbs she withstood from partying workmates as she turned in early most nights all week. Since it's 11 PM her time and we have plans for the next seven hours, I whole-heartedly approve.

Back at the car we load in her luggage and produce a black cap and cloak – though the night's not freezing, it might come in handy. Pulling the cap down over her eyes (that's why we chose it) should shut off her vision until we intend to restore it. I had considered a number of anxiety-provoking scenes, such as removing or changing her clothes in a deserted parking lot somewhere (hence the cloak) but concluded that even the most basic evening would be thrilling enough under the blindfold – and if we ran into trouble entering the hotel, I wanted her to have a respectable amount of clothing on. Cat guides her carefully into the backseat.

These things seldom go perfectly and in hindsight we probably should have chosen the ear-warmer blindfold instead of the cap. kristen, alone in the back seat – hard to distribute three people in a small car - does not behave well in terms of peeking, so she does know we're going up the freeway along the strip and not heading out into the desert. I repeatedly reach back and pull her cap back down but her intention, at least, is obvious. She's never seen the hotel lobby-casino and is extremely anxious about being led through it blindfolded – actually, I had brought a few birthday party props just to allow us to do so – but I've decided we can't go through the casino anyway, due to where we have to park, and have scoped out a route from the back door, through enough lobby to get her heart racing, and to the elevator with little fear of trouble. Still, keeping the blindfold on will be a recurring issue most of the night.

At the hotel we do switch to the band-style blindfold – a little more obvious than a lowered cap but much easier to get kristen to keep over her eyes – and I leave Cat and kristen at the curb before parking and returning to bring her into the hotel. It's easy to forget how difficult and slow it is to walk while blindfolded – we offer her an elbow, like for a blind person, but of course her steps are very tentative. Slowly we make our way along the sidewalk from drop-off to door, door to lobby, along one side and across to the elevators – on a route that makes it unlikely anyone will see us but has enough of the casino sounds to convince our overly-anxious sub that a million people are watching. Just after quickly providing our key to the guard at the elevator I hear someone ask "oh, is it someone's birthday?" Apart from that we actually draw little notice. We get an elevator to ourselves though I've always assumed they're video-monitored so we don't spank or strip her right there, much as we'd like to.

Once on our floor we begin the long, mini-step trek down the hall. I suggest that we step into the ice and vending room, which is out of sight of the video cameras, and strip kristen under the cloak, but Cat thinks we're doing enough – and is probably right. So kristen arrives at our door with her clothes still momentarily intact.

I had considered leaving on talk radio and CNN so that competing voices would greet our arrival but once again put that in the "too much" category – just getting her into the suite, removing the cloak, getting her barefoot on the entry-area marble, and peeling off her tight little jeans is plenty.

As a plaything kristen is the embodiment of perfection – beautiful olive skin, petite yet shapely on a miniature scale, just enough padding to her tiny bottom to make it a delight to spank – and Cat is very anxious to get her hands on her. But first, a few introductions. Though she is extremely submissive when playing – a trait that I've actually found to be rare among the spanking crowd – I want to reassure her a bit. From behind I wrap my arms around her, holding her arms and lifting her clear of the floor. I tell her to try and get away, which she does, meekly and with no success – though she claims she's "being nice" I'm thinking she would not be too successful anyway. With this I explain that she doesn't have to submit, we can do what we want to do even if she resists, that she has no control whatsoever and nothing to worry about.

Nine PM, Hotel Suite coffee table – kristen finds herself standing on a large, square, foot-high platform.

Marble, hard and cold under her bare feet and - soon - knees, we guide her toward the center and she can feel elevated and trapped – unable to wander without risking falling off, blindfolded. Stepping back from the table I watch her try to discover and take in her situation, searching for the edges, trying to find a way to get it back under her control – while she also tilts her head back in a blatant attempt to peek out under the blindfold. In her tiny black g-string – lace over a beige lining – she looks little different than she would nude below the waist.
At my urging Cat helps her kneel and I ask her why she is there. She ducks admitting her own feelings by saying that she doesn't know what to say and then that she'll say what we want – while of course what I want is her own answer. Cat gets a quirt to smack her if she persists in trying to peek which she claims is unsuccessful but even the quirt doesn't deter her. Eventually I guide her into saying that she's in control a lot and wants to not be in control for awhile.

I've heard women say that they don't want to top a wimp and now I know what they mean – because no matter how submissive she becomes, kristen is no wimp. Beautiful, successful, fashionable, she is in control if – or when – she wants. In play she desires a heavy hand but wears her rebellious streaks like racing stripes – wide and blatant. Her submission reflects no real-life need – not a desire for acceptance, admiration, commitment, support or even guidance. It is wholly and purely an innate physical desire surfacing straight from her eros.

Standing at the edge of the table I summon her to me, wrapping her easily in my arm, lifting her down, guiding her to the windows looking out on the Strip, teasing her about her disobedience with "you wanted to see the Strip, there it is" as she scowls in reply. Cat comes over, taking her out of her top and bra, guiding her toward a pane unbroken by cross-supports, nudging her forward – a red blindfold and pseudo-nude g-string, breasts pressed against the cold glass, no certainty of how close to the Strip's thousands of pedestrians we really are – as Cat reminds her, whispering in her ear. From behind, arms at her sides, obedient, a bare bottom no bigger than a salad plate, she is a vision made real.

But this is just corner time, she was very naughty in the car and now – at last – she must be spanked. Or gets to be spanked, depending on your perspective. Cat sits on a long bench – this suite is so ideally furnished for play, it makes you wonder – taking kristen over her knee. She's commented many times on how nice it is to spank a woman's soft, yielding, sensitive bottom rather than a man's muscular, resisting butt – so she enjoys this immensely. Not much punishment but we have plenty of time for that.

From here I carry her over and lay her down on the bed, on her back, drawing her arms above her, displayed in all her perfection. Her breasts in divine proportion could each be covered by one hand, rising straight off her torso with the unacknowledged conceit of youth. Wrapping a forearm in each hand I pin her down as Cat sweeps her with one sensation after another – fur, bristles, feathers, nylon threads – and she squirms, cannot resist resisting under the visceral demands of a light, tickling touch. I grip and position a leg as Cat smacks her, her bottom, her thigh on the back and inside and front. Much as she wants to Cat resists kissing kristen's breasts, taking them in her mouth, stroking, feeling, entering her – uncertain what is "acceptable."

Well teased, it's time for a bit more play – back to the marble-floored entry way, where a small marble ledge projects from the wall, perfect for kristen to grip and bend to. With a handful of canes Cat stings her bottom, with an occasional full stroke for a more definite reaction. kristen's curiosity is amusing as she searches the ledge, trying to discover what it is and where she is, while it is actually an architectural oddity out of place in any location. I have kristen step back, lean forward, rise on her toes, arch inward – a glorious curve of young womanhood tensing to the bite of the rattan.

10 PM, floor of the suite – kristen begs, pleads, demands, insists – that she be allowed to remove the blindfold, which is a bit precarious because her hands aren't tied.

Since she wants to explore her environment I have offered to let her crawl around a bit, setting her on the floor and smacking her with the quirt – but she suddenly decides that she doesn't want to go anywhere, she collapses and curls up on the floor, begging to take the blindfold off. Putting her on her back, opening her legs, I make her an offer – climax and it can come off. She protests that sometimes it's hard – as every woman knows – afraid that she won't get her wish despite my manipulations and her efforts to accept them. The g-string comes off at last, the three of us are on the floor, she is completely, totally available to us.

Carefully, lightly, I try to find the touch she'll respond to, but she knows her body well. The excitement, the late hour, the anxiety combine to mute her response. Hoping that more spanking will provide the decisive stimulus, we turn her over and I get a short, heavy strap. Up on your knees, I tell her, back down, I want an arch, I want your bottom out and smack! She gasps and curls a bit – back down, you know what I want, now do it – smack, low, quite firmly. Her reaction is extreme, maybe I've given her a bit too much, I aim higher on her backward-thrust, proffered little bottom and begin a steady strapping, which she takes a little better.

Receiving makes kristen submissive, compliant, docile – she is very good about saying please and thank-you and pleading properly, sincerely, respectfully – but both her bottom and her spirit recover very quickly, naughty and ready for more. Within seconds of the final stroke of her strapping she has rolled over and, with one final complaint, reached up and removed the blindfold. So proud of herself, giggling and beaming with a sparkle in her jade-green eyes.

Naturally such blatant behavior must be dealt with in extremis. I'm up on the bench with her across my lap as Cat plies the black rubber strap – a nicely wicked spanking that won't inhibit our playing later. Even holding her knees with one arm and her torso with the other I have trouble keeping her bent as she fights her discipline – though she escapes none of it, not a single lick. The strap provides a heavy, excessive-feeling swat on every stroke but still manages to have ferocious sting, eliciting pleas, explanations, apologies, rationalizations, and more pleas from our unfortunate felon – all at a disciplinary, record-setting pace. Within a minute or two she's absorbed many dozen withering imprints across – and not only across, top-to-bottom and angled as well – her elfin little bottom. While I don't doubt that she learned absolutely no lesson at all from it, at least we did our best.

Yet Another Hairbrush

2006-07-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

As many of you have heard, I have a thing for toys – mostly really inexpensive toys as in the under $5 range, things you can find around the house or shop and buy under at least some guise of putting it to normal or at least some non-spanking use.

Like all obsessions, this one makes no sense. I already have more toys than I could ever use and for the most part more than I'm willing to store. Like all obsessions, I have found ways to buy far too many toys from time to time – such as the idea that I would buy a few of each to test and then start a business to resell them. Ah, the money you can spend under the "I'll start a business and make money" delusion (I also do this with gems and some jewelry).

To deal with this obsession I have attempted to resist buying more toys and, failing that (naturally), severely limit myself, particularly in the area of cheap, plentiful toys. Unfortunately for some reason I got on E-Bay recently (to look for jewelry, actually) and was immediately forced to buy a new hairbrush.

A beautiful hairbrush from Hawaii, made from curly koa wood, which is supposed to be both soft and medium-heavy, and an adequate length (it appeared from the picture) to give a decent spanking, adequate breadth to give a bearable one:

It arrived yesterday and Cat was almost immediately spanked with it. She reports that it wasn't too thuddy but was unbearably stingy. The lack of thud I attribute to the fact that it's nowhere near as heavy as our ebony ones. The wood seems lighter in the first place and the head is hollowed out for a rubber bristle-insert instead of bristles being set in the wood. It's nine inches long which is just about the minimum for most spankings, and the back is perfectly flat, which is what I think gives it its sting. So quite a different sensation from the Pride of England ebony standard. And though we haven't tried it, it claims to be waterproof, so it can be used wet (!)

But of course I mostly bought it for its looks...

A Young Lady Gets Her Bottom Spanked - An Interactive Spanking Story

2006-07-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

I've had this out there for a long time but if you've never seen it, it's a cute Mad-Lib type story that will get naughty young ladies their very own spanking!

http://myownspankingstory.blogspot.com/

Remember to turn off your pop-up blocker to see the finished story!

Taking the Noise Out of Spanking

2006-07-04T16:57:00.000-07:00

Taking the Noise Out of Spanking
by Matt Anglen

From time to time we're asked about how spanking can be done more quietly, so that neighbors, kids, or visiting parents aren't perfectly aware of your activities. With a huge variety of toys at my disposal and numerous opportunities to experiment, I've come up with a few suggestions. Though you can do a little with sound protection, mostly you have to reduce the noise at the source without extinguishing the effect.

If it's neighbors you're worried about, one thing to consider is how quiet you really need to be. If there’s not a lot of angry yelling and chasing, wailing and begging, or naked women being dragged back in the front door, people might wonder but that’s about it. Rocking the bed off its foundations, however, is still a no-no for second-story dwellers.

Unfortunately, what you're trying to avoid is the best part of spanking – the solid, rhythmic swat and accompanying sound. Disciplines that avoid these are going to be a lot less noticeable but probably a lot less enjoyable. The challenge is to find answers that fit your lifestyle while addressing your situation.

The simple rule for noise making seems to be that the flatter, harder, and larger the striking surface, the more noise is generated – or, the more curve, softer, and smaller the surface, the less noise you'll have. Because of this, a good, long-handled, deep-bowled wooden spoon can completely blister your bottom with few people finding out – and very quickly becomes the spanking you hate most!

Just a Spanking

Let's start with hands, always the best thing to spank with. There's always one around when you need it, they draw little suspicion, and whether you think they feel "good" or not, the feel better than a lot of things! The way a guy holds his hand can make a big difference in how much noise he's making – as for you, you're on your own. If he flexes his fingers back (thumb, too) he'll give a very thuddy feeling with a lot less sound. Some of the thud comes from the fact that he's almost required to stiffen his wrist. If he spreads his fingers or relaxes his hand and wrist he can generate a lot more sting but the sound will increase. Unfortunately, the favored technique of cupping the hand (and bottom cheek) is the one that makes the most noise and those good hard slaps that make your teeth ring are probably out.

Whether he's using his hand, hairbrush, or paddle, technique will have a big influence on sound versus effect. If, instead of spanking straight on, he uses more of an angle, you’ll get a lot more effect - or the same effect with less effort and less noise. Have him start with his hand at about mid-thigh (your thigh) level and bring it up in a circular motion, catching you moving upward, like a “cuff,” so that his hand ends up behind you again, but at his shoulder level. Or, he can bring it straight on, like topspin in tennis, palm almost flat downward so that he smacks you as his hand goes from low and behind you to low above your back.

Even worse (more painful) is doing it top-to-bottom – have him start with his hand above your back, palm toward your head, and with a sweeping motion, chop down toward your seat, flicking his wrist and curving off so that he finishes with his palm flat - here he's spanking with his fingers. It sounds like this would alternate well with the “top-spin” spank, but really it works better with the “cuff.”

Quieter Hairbrushes

In terms of conventional spanking, a curved-back hairbrush (I shop at Sally Beauty Supply) makes less noise and I think hurts more that a flat-backed one; a good thick one, which may be expensive, will also make less noise while spanking deeper and better. Used with a rigid wrist and arm, they should be pretty quiet, while still providing good coverage and deep soreness (unlike a spoon, for example, which has more sting). However, many curved-back brushes end up with too small an area for spanking, and a better alternative is a bigger one (for once) – a nice long wooden clothes brush with gently curved edges. It delivers a very solid spank that is quite difficult to accept but still generates less noise, I think due to the lack of sharp edges (okay, if you want to know, I think the sound waves are coming off the central impact portion but as they head outward the flesh of your bottom, which is more gently curving around the edge, muffles them).

In the kitchen, you might try a heavy wooden spoon - we got one at an Indian shop - or any hardwood spoon. Target's better ones are pretty good. They're very painful and less noisy, though not completely quiet. Spatulas are loud. Also try to avoid holes, they can be a problem in kitchen implements – and do not use a pasta-lifter, the hole in the middle will make a super-blister.

A Really Quiet Paddle-Feeling Toy

This is going to sound a little odd, but I think it works okay – we have a "thumper," a super-heavy cane that's used lightly for an erotic charge. I made it out of bamboo but it got me thinking how else we could make one, and the ones I came up with make pretty decent paddles, despite seeming kind of silly. They give a heavy, solid swat though I can't guarantee they'll leave you very sore but I think they will.

I speak of these in multiples because I made about four different models, all similar. For these, I went to the home-improvement store and got some short pieces of plastic sprinkler pipe – 18, 24, and 30 inches are probably best, depending on otk or bent over. Similar diameter bamboo from the crafts store would be okay too. Then I got pipe insulation – I think there's two diameters and two thicknesses. Pipe insulation is a long sleeve of foam rubber with a hollow core for the pipe to go through. I think all four cost less than $20. I glued different sizes of pipe insulation on the different core pipes, thinking it would be a pretty soft massager – not quite! The result was something that delivers a paddle-smack without a sound! I've wanted to wrap this in something, since it seems like the foam insulation is, well honestly, a little silly. But I haven't gotten that far yet.

Typically straps and belts are noisy and have a very distinctive sound. A multi-fall flogger is much less noticeable but you have to find one you like – the thinner the falls the quieter but stingier. One with heavy falls will give a lot more thud. The hard, belt-leather type falls make a lot of noise but you may find that a session with slightly softer, quieter falls works for you.

Other Very Quiet Toys

I’ve got some simple silent rubber floggers that are also pretty unbearable, though ladies are unlikely to find them very romantic, especially used by themselves. Wetting the bottom makes the same amount of spanking go farther and works particularly well with rubber. The combination of wet and the rubber flogger can generate a pretty good spanking with a minimum of suspicion. And if done in the shower, it gives another level of sound protection (assuming the howling doesn't carry).

Here's a link to one form of a "loopy" spanking toy:

http://www.mystyscorner.com/playroom/spline.htm

Mysty recommends screen-door spline ($3.50 at Home Depot) but windshield-washer hose from the auto parts store (also cheap) has worked pretty well for me, except that you can have a hard time straightening it. Cat says to put it in hot (very hot) water, stretch it over something straight or weight one end, and let it dry – maybe using your hairdryer. Also, it's not the binding that counts, it's the three loops, so there's dozens of ways to put them together.

For very little noise, buy or order a good rattan cane, $15, maybe. Don't use anything else like bamboo because it can cut and is way to stiff, along with most everything else. The only other thing I'd suggest is the plastic rod off of the mini-blinds – in case you're too embarrassed to order a cane.

If you use switches make sure you use them as soon as you cut them because they dry out in minutes and then they're too stiff. If you have a ton of money (who does?) Adam and Gillian have a "white lightning" short plastic switch ($35) they speak highly of and a couple of plastic birching toys… we have a longer, heavier cat toy with a 30" plastic wand – you can leave this in the garage and get a few good hard strokes on the way out to somewhere (don't leave a rattan cane in your parents' garage, it really might be somewhat recognizable). We have a bag of flexible pencils, a schoolkid's novelty from the dollar store, that work as very painful quiet otk switches. Round off the ends or they can mark.

We’ve got a cat toy - a bit of fluff attached to a micro-thin plastic wand (Target Stores, $2.95). The wand is silent and very very stingy, especially when snapped. Really, it’s best as an accent, not the main event, but it is quiet...
One other toy, which I think mostly of for women smacking guys, is one of the heavier flyswatters. The one we use (for flies, actually) has a strong handle about like coat-hanger wire with a thin plastic or rubber coating. It's bent into a narrow loop that would be perfect for smacking someone with, though it seems pretty severe. Another advantage is that it can be left most anywhere and kept handy without drawing comment.

Other Approaches

Corner time, of course – we saw one picture of a girl on her knees, head in the corner, partly supported by her arms, that has to be hard. My suggestion, which Cat didn't like, was to have you stand on tip-toe, using a pencil to hold a glass of water against the ceiling. Or if you open a door, reach up, and have him stretch a piece of elastic over the top, so you have to keep that position (the idea is, if you let go of the elastic you can't put it back yourself.) Having to kneel on your fingers, that was a favorite of the nuns… speaking of nuns, they'd wrap a rubber band around some poor soul's wrist and then snap it on the inside… or draw an "X" on the blackboard and make you keep your nose on it interminably.

Ice cubes… these can be cruel in the right hands… or the flip side, very hot towels (they're heavier than wet washcloths), especially as a prelude to a spanking. For something you said, there's washing your mouth out or brushing your teeth etc. with soap or hot sauce… I think that belongs in fiction more than in real life.

Sound Protection

As far as noise protection, I think big glass sliding doors are the worst culprits, followed by windows. I’ve hung a comforter over the sliding glass door - get two of those clamp-type pants hangers and hang it from the curtain/ blinds rod. Point your bottom toward the closet or bathroom, not the outside wall or window.

If you have a basement and small kids, and have been reluctant to go down there while they're sleeping (and leave them unattended), you can get a nursery monitor, a one-way intercom that will let you hear if they call for you or get up and wander around. This can let you take advantage of your basement without the worries of the kids needing you for the moment.

With all of those suggestions to choose from, I hope something works that fits in well with your lifestyle!