Blame

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...

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

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!

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

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

Holiday Spirit

As Party Time Approaches...

(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

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!