Sharing another clip

This one is from later in the scene, where we'd moved from OTK to my ottoman and he'd broken out the heavy artillery -- his belt, a big black strap and that godawful paddle.

For those who have always wanted to see/hear me count and say "Thank you," (arrgggh) here you go. Twenty with the black strap. Watch out for #16; apparently, that one "got through to me."

P.S.: Remember, everyone, I really do like this. :-)

Ow...

Who named it the "sweet spot," anyway? There's nothing @#$%ing sweet about it. Not feeling very sweet at this moment, lemme tell you.

I don't know what he was so tweaked about. OK, so I didn't get all dressed up for him this time. It was cold and I wanted to dress a little more warmly. But I thought what I had on was rather cute and cheery. It was a sweatshirt, but such a pretty color! And don't you think the design on the front is darling?

Check out that post-spanking hair; what a mess! LOL

See, he's saying "Don't Wanna" -- isn't that precious? I thought it was most inappropriate that I had to remove it. (sulk) I swear, there's no pleasing that man. And to have to assume this undignified pose, to boot. Most unflattering too. Look at it now, 'cause you'll never see it again!


Why does it feel like he ramps it up every single week? I don't know how he does it. When he commented on my sassiness for perhaps the umpteenth time, I said in what I thought was a beseeching tone: "But that's what you like about me!" He laughed. Briefly. Then replied, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to give you a good spanking for it. Because that's what you like about me. Isn't it!"

Yes, dammit...

I wanted it to burn and sting. I wanted that sweet release. And finally, I got it.

Guess what? Remember that three-pack of spoons he brought a few weeks ago -- I'd broken two of them, but the third one held up? Well, now that sucker is toast too, three for three.


He hung out for about an hour and a half afterward, and of course, couldn't leave without Round Two on the couch. After that, I was so blissed out, I just wanted to stay across his lap, snuggle into him and go to sleep. But alas, I had to let him up; his dog was waiting for him at home, after all.

Mmmmmm... of course, since it's the freaking holidays, I'm going to need this therapy on a regular basis. Yeah, yeah, shut up, Erica... you need it on a regular basis year-round, you insatiable wench. :-)

Fortunately, it seems he's rather insatiable himself...

A two-fer: a clip AND a rant

I'm home... and I promised more clips, didn't I. New Guy posted a bunch of them on FetLife, but on there, only the people who "support" (read: donate money to) FetLife get to watch the videos, so many won't be able to see them.

This little clip is my favorite. I love his reactions to my big mouth. :-D

So, Thanksgiving is over. One down, one to go. Er... I mean, wasn't Thanksgiving lovely?? Oh, whatever. I'll tell you when I'll give thanks -- when John gets that @#$%ing PICC out of his arm and he doesn't have to inject those @#$%ing antibiotics any more. Just a couple more weeks... he's so miserable. :-(

You all have heard me bitch and moan and rant about the holiday season; I have nothing new to say at this point. So for those who are new to my blog, I'm reposting a rant from December 2007, just for grins. Remember all that fuss about whether you should say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays"? Here's my take on that life-or-death decision. Enjoy.

Warning -- the following rant is sacrilegious. If that sort of thing offends you, please stop reading here!

I don't know where any of you stand with the dumbass controversy about whether one should say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Personally, I don't give a damn either way. I happen to say Happy Holidays, simply because it's generic and covers everything. But it doesn't bother me if someone says Merry Christmas to me. I mean, it's just a phrase. At this time of year, it's the same as saying hello and goodbye. But people make such a freaking fuss about what to say. Good grief, do people really have nothing better to whine about? I'm sure the homeless people on skid row don't care whether or not someone says Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays to them.

I was watching the news the other night, and they had one of those "human interest" stories they tack on at the end of the war and the rapes and the natural disasters, just for a little feel-good moment. Apparently, some little podunk town somewhere in South Bumf**k decided they've had enough of Happy Holidays, and they're going to reclaim Merry Christmas. One merchant in this town has big signs up in the store, reading "It's OK to say Merry Christmas!" All the employees wear buttons that read, "Merry Christmas." Yes, the Christ is in red.

They interviewed the owner of this establishment, looking very righteous in her button and her loud, cheery Xmas sweater from Bobbie Sue's House of Dreck, and saying, "We need to remember what Christmas is about -- it's about Christ." She went on to say that any customer in her store who says "Merry Christmas" gets a 5% discount.

Give me a break! So now, every greedy so-and-so in that town is going to flock to that store and cheerfully say the designated phrase, just to get the discount! Some Christmas spirit, that is. Hell, I'd say Merry Christmas, or Happy Kwanzaa, or Joyous Toenail Clipping Day or whatever the hell you want me to say, for a discount.

I wonder how the owner would react if a customer came in, piled up the counter with half the store's merchandise, then said, "Merry Christmas -- now give me my damn discount."

Yeah, I know, I'm bad. Tell me something I don't know. :-)

A couple of teaser clips! :-)

New Guy was busy today on his day off, pulling clips from our Monday night footage. And he has given me the OK to post some here.

Because I'm such a brat, I'm going to leave you with a couple of teasers, some more light-hearted stuff, and save the ouchie clips until after the weekend.

For the first one, I didn't even know the camera was on yet -- we were prepping for the scene. Very impromptu, but fun, I thought!

The radio was on in the background. Makes me giggle that the song playing in this clip was Sexy Sadie. ("Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules, you laid it down for all to see...")

Oh, and check out Mr. Hammy looking into the camera!  LOL

In this quickie, I had made a smart-ass remark (fancy that) and he'd reached in his bag for a paddle. After one swat, he realized that he'd grabbed the wrong one -- one that I'd given a hard NO. Oops! In his eagerness to get rid of it, he... well, you'll see. :-)

I hope everyone had a pleasant and peaceful Thanksgiving! Have a great weekend, y'all.

Thanksgiving thoughts

Happy Turkey Day, everyone. No, I'm not posting a holiday rant. Not yet, anyway. Just having a quiet and reflective morning and wanted to share some thoughts.

Some of you may know this -- Thanksgiving was actually my favorite holiday for many years. No religious overtones, no gifts to buy, no cards to send... just a day where you got together with loved ones, had wonderful food and if you were of a mind to, counted your blessings.

I loved going to my mother and stepfather's for Thanksgiving. My mother and I have always had our ups and downs, but on Thanksgiving, all that was put aside. I looked forward to arriving at their place; it would be warm and cozy, filled with mouth-watering smells and festively decorated. There was usually an eclectic bunch present; Mom had always been one to take in the people who were by themselves, at loose ends, on holidays. Over the years, I'd brought my share of friends who had no other place to go, and they were warmly welcomed.

No one cooked like my mother. Her turkeys were always tender and juicy, even the white meat. She'd collect all the drippings and juices, put them in the freezer until all the fat rose to the top, then skim it off. I don't know how she thickened the gravy, but she didn't use flour and it was never lumpy or pasty. She always put in plenty of cooked fresh mushrooms, because she knew I loved them. Oh, and her stuffing... I could have made a meal of that alone, mountains of it. I hate yams, and you can have mashed potatoes anytime. Pass on that disgusting Thanksgiving staple, the goopy green bean/mushroom soup casserole with canned fried onions on top. (Not that she ever made that!) But my mom's stuffing -- starchy Nirvana.

She and my stepdad and their friends were partial to a lemon cheesecake from Baker's Square pies for dessert. However, I thought cheesecake after all that rich food was utterly gross, and besides, you have to have pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving. So I always brought one.

Even cleanup was fun, as we'd crowd into the kitchen, wrapping leftovers, washing dishes, laughing, sated and giddy with carb/tryptophan overload. I figured since I didn't do the cooking, the least I could do was help with the mess afterward and I enjoyed doing so. I'd spend the next couple of nights there. After John came into my life, I'd come home Saturday morning and spend the rest of the weekend with him. He'd be with his own family on Thanksgiving; we'd mutually agreed that he'd see his, I'd see mine, and we'd get together afterwards.

It was a lovely place to be. I felt like a kid again, or at least how a kid should feel... comfortable, loved, well fed and cared for. Safe.

Then my mother began her slow descent into dementia, and everything changed.

Thanksgiving went from warm and pleasant to not-so-pleasant, then uncomfortable, then spectacularly awful. There were tears and fights and ruined food. And finally, it was over. My mother went into an assisted-care facility, and that was the end of Thanksgiving as we knew it.

For the past two years, I have refused to acknowledge Thanksgiving. I have treated it like just another Thursday, staying home and watching DVDs, reading, whatever I felt like doing. John continued to do his own thing with whichever family member was in town; I was always welcome and I knew that, but I didn't want to go and begged off. He understood and didn't pressure me, although I know he was disappointed. I couldn't help it. It was too damn depressing for me and I preferred to withdraw and ignore the whole thing.

This year is different. This year, for better or worse, I think I'm ready to rejoin the living.

We are invited to John's sister's house later this afternoon; most of his family will be there. I have many mixed feelings about going, but above everything else, I want to be with John. I know he wants me there and I want to be there for him. It's one meal, it's a few hours. I could have lost him in recent weeks. On this day, I want to be with the person in my life for whom I'm the most thankful.

And hey, there are bright sides. John has two sisters: one prepares food that is tasty and reasonably healthy; the other one's cooking makes me feel like all the blood in my body has been replaced by butterfat. Fortunately, the former is doing the cooking today, not the latter. :-)

All right -- time to do some laundry, get some other things done and then prepare to head out. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, whatever you're doing. I wish you peace, happiness and a thankful heart this day.

Erica's Helpful Hints #4

Just tell him that you were scratching the bridge of your nose. You're allowed to have an itch, aren't you? Well, aren't you?

That's your story and you stick to it. :-)

Lights, camera...

...sore bottom! Guess who brought a video camera along with his toy bag tonight?

Since it had been two weeks (and I was in big trouble for my "helpful hints"), I decided to welcome him sweetly and got all dressed up -- black dress (one I can't wear in public, but it's great for play), garters, stockings, the whole bit. How timely, as it turned out I was going to be on camera. He'd asked me a couple of visits ago if I'd like to shoot one of our sessions sometime; I said sure and then forgot all about it.

You know, for an amateur, first-time thing, we got something fairly decent, I think. I should have turned off the stereo in the background; you can barely hear our dialogue as it is. But live and learn. We turned on every light in the room, and it seems the brightness was sufficient. And ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first: New Guy is a ham!! He was totally playing to the camera, ramping things up, making clever comebacks to my sassy comments.

Him: I think it's time to bring out the paddle.
Me: No-o-o-o-o....
Him: No? Who are you to tell me yes or no?
Me: Hey, I still have a voice!
Him: You may have a voice, but you don't have a choice.

Argggghhhhh.

The final 20 with the paddle reallllllly pushed my limits. Ow, ow, ow. Had to count them, too. He cut me a little break -- earlier in the scene, with 20 of the big strap, I had to count them and say "thank you" after each one. But for the finale, I just had to count, nothing else. Whatta guy, huh? (I didn't help my case any by saying "fuck you" instead of "thank you" at first. We had a few do-overs.)

He did the last four strokes in rapid succession, and #20 made me thrash around so hard, I rolled off the side of the ottoman and tumbled onto the floor. No, I did not do that on purpose. Came out looking pretty funny, though.

Nothing funny about this, though:

Yikes. Yes, it's as sore as it looks. But amazingly, despite this outrageous manhandling, I'm feeling quite relaxed and in my happy place. :-)

See, don't I look blissful?

Night night...

Nice restful weekend -- NOT!

So there I was, looking forward to going to John's on Friday. I was already feeling kind of tired and blech, due to an unfortunate blowout with one friend and worries over another one who has been very ill, so I just wanted to hang out on this rainy, cloudy weekend with my sweetie and relax. Ha!

When I got to his house, despite the fact that it was rainy and cold out and I was all bundled up, I noticed when I entered that his place was as cold as a morgue, the windows were all open and fans were blowing. WTF? John was ironing some shirts and thrust a Yellow Pages at me. "Please look up refrigerator repair and start making some calls. My refrigerator is broken." He said he'd come home that afternoon after having been gone all week (he stays in Orange County during the week, in a motel that is walking distance from his work, rather than make a huge commute every day), and everything in his freezer had melted into a big mess and all the food in the fridge was rotting. He'd spent the last few hours cleaning and now he was trying to catch up with his laundry.

This was bad enough, but what would normally be an aggravation and inconvenience was an emergency. John has IV medicines that must be kept refrigerated. Getting this thing fixed pronto was crucial.

So I got on the phone and started calling repair companies. The best I could find was one who said they'd come the following morning between 9:00 and noon. We took his meds and drove them over to his mother's house, then went to dinner -- it was after 9:00 and we were both starved, but figured OK, the fridge will get fixed in the morning.

We waited for three hours next morning... no show from the repair people. John called around 11:30 and was told the guy was on his way, and would be here by noon. Noon came and went. At 12:15, I called, and they said the tech was stuck in traffic and would be here within an hour. We were stuck there, couldn't go anywhere, couldn't get lunch, and we were getting on each other's nerves. The place was freezing, since turning on the heat made John's itching worse. I got back into his bed with all my clothes on and piled on the comforters, and read.

When 1:30 came, I got on the phone yet again, and when they told me the tech would be there within a half-hour, I lost it. "Don't tell me that; you keep saying that and he doesn't show up. I'm telling you this is an emergency -- my boyfriend has medications that MUST be kept cold and we need to get this fixed. You promised us between 9:00 and noon, then 1:00, and now it's 1:30. We could have gone with someone else, but now it's too late; we're depending on you." He said he'd have the tech himself give us a call from the road. I asked him if I had his word on that and he said yes. (Not that his word meant that much, really. But I think I sounded convincingly urgent and he realized I wasn't going to stop haranguing him until he made good with his promises.)

Long story short, the tech finally got there at 2:45. Traffic, he said. Rain. Accidents. The operators overbook and promise people the moon. Whatever! He then told John that his compressor was broken and he could either replace it ($700) or put an "accelator" on it that would get it working again, but there was no guarantee on how long that would last -- could be five years, could be two weeks. Swell! John figured $700 plus a few hundred more could buy him a new fridge, so he went with the accelator (for $200). Beggars can't be choosers.

We ate for the first time around 3:30, then had to run a bunch of errands, buying food, going back to John's mom's to get his meds, etc. Would have been nice to have a peaceful evening at home after all that, right? Nahhhh. His next-door neighbor had a party. No peace and quiet for us.

Sleep would have been elusive, anyway. Poor John is still going nuts with night-time itching from his meds. When he had his dressing changed on Friday, the doctor gave him some Zyrtec (allergy medication) and told him to try that, and if that didn't work, try Benadryl. So John tried the Zyrtec that night; didn't help. He was tossing and turning and I finally had to leave to go sleep on the couch. The next day we bought him Benadryl; guess what? That didn't work either. So I slept on the couch Saturday night too.

By today, we were a pair of exposed nerves. Fortunately, before I left, we talked it out, agreed to write off all the sniping and arguing as an incredibly bad weekend and we'd be OK next time. But folks, this is why I've never married. I was so, so glad to come home to my own quiet little place. I need space where I can withdraw and regroup. I would lose my mind if I didn't have my own place to come back to. (Yes, I know I'm ending a sentence with a preposition. I don't care.)

After I settled back in, I checked email and found a proclamation from you-know-who that I should enjoy sitting while I can, because I wasn't going to do so for a week after he was done with me. Really? Be still, my heart. :-) Finally. It's been two weeks and it feels like two months.

Onward. Ahead is lots and lots of sleep and some very special attention. Just what this girl needs.

Hope everyone had a much more peaceful and fun weekend!

Erica's Helpful Hints #3

Sisters, you all know this moment. When you can sense an instant sea change, when you've taken that One Step Beyond and you're in big trouble. You see the telltale color rising in his neck, his eyes stopping you dead in your tracks, the pulse jumping along his tightened jawline.

When your butt is on the line, remember this: Tops have very short attention spans and are easily distractible. Try disarming him with your sweetest, most innocent smile.

His poor little mind will cloud over. He'll remember how angelic you can be, even though you were the devil incarnate mere minutes ago. Chances are, he'll completely forget why he was piqued with you in the first place.

There are bottoms who take the pouting/pleading route, but I don't recommend it. Granted, some girls look irresistibly adorable when they pout...

From Shadow Lane's "Keith's Girl Friday."

...However, others (raising hand) can't quite pull it off. Also, pouting can backfire. ("I haven't even touched you yet, and you're pulling that face? I'll give you something to pout about!")

But practice and perfect your best "Who, me?" face, and you may very well hear him say, "Aww, you're so cute. I just can't bring myself to punish you."

Or not.

Hey, it's worth a try.

**Bonus hint to the tops: If your spankee is anything like me, giving her that Keith Jones-esque Steel-Eye with the fingerpoint (or its companion, the solemnly beckoning finger, commanding her to come hither to her fate) will make her melt like chocolate in the sun.

I'll like two of those, please

Ever feel like this? And ever feel like you don't have any right to complain about it, because everyone else is dealing with their own troubles and they don't want to hear you whine?

I'm not sure what's gotten into me lately, but I'm all over the map. Could be the ongoing emotional fallout from all the weeks of worrying about John. Could be worry about John's future. Could be the onset of the holidays. Could be hormones. Maybe it's all of the above.

Today, I started out sleepy and dragging. Later, as I sat working, one of those melodramatic weepy songs came on the oldies station... and I promptly and unexpectedly burst into tears. After that, I went into my bedroom, pulled the shades and closed the door, and burrowed for an hour. When I got up, I had this crazy urge to go to the self-service yogurt bar and gorge myself silly with creamy caloric sweetness. Waited that out, thank goodness. Then I went on FetLife and saw a disgusting photo, and felt incredibly, righteously pissed off. Now I feel like I want to jump out of my skin, but I need to compose myself, because I'm not going to endear anyone in this sort of mood. And John's going to call shortly and I don't want to worry him.

Sheesh! What's it like to be an even-keeled person?

A friend on Fet suggested that perhaps I need a spanking. Well, duh. That's a given. I always need that. :-)  But it's a Band-Aid, a temporary distraction. It calms me down and centers me for a while, until the effect fades and then I'm back into bitchiness and angst. Damn -- I'm addicted! That's it! I'm suffering withdrawal this week!

OK, I'm being silly. But I wish I knew what the hell is going on with me. Last Friday, I remember feeling quite serene, like all was well with my world. Nothing has changed since then; where did that good feeling go?

And yes, I do feel like I don't have the right to grouse. Everyone I know is dealing with something or another. Everyone has pain and anxiety to some degree. Everyone has stress. So what does one do? Air and share? Shut the hell up and deal with it? Admit one's humanity, self-centerness and imperfection, one's struggles, or go do something else until the mood passes? Some people ignore their own needs and give to others... but then who gives to them? Where's the right balance?

I often use humor to deflect my struggles; I suppose that is a tool I inherited from my father. Someone recently described me as brave. I don't feel brave. I feel like a loony tune with precious little coping skills. But hey, I'm a damn funny loony tune.

I may very well regret the vulnerability and "me-ness" of this post. But sometimes, folks, this is where I am. I apologize.

So where are my pills? And can you give me enough to get me through until January 2?

Erica's Helpful Hints #2

When your top, due to vanilla obligations, can't come over to give you that special attention that you both love so much, it's a nice gesture to send him a little note, telling him that you look forward to seeing him again.

For that extra touch, you could personalize your note with a photo. One option is to attach a sweet and playful picture of yourself and your white behind, and say that you can't wait until he can put some color back into your cheeks again.

Or....

You could take the "Ha ha, I'm here and you're there and you can't do a damn thing about it" approach:

Either way, your top is sure to have a nice warm feeling. The "warm fuzzies" type from the former photo, or the simmering "wait 'til I get my hands on her" variety from the latter.

And of course, once he finally comes over, you'll have a nice warm feeling yourself. ;-) Win-win, I'd say.

Guess which approach I'd take?

The weekend

It was a mixed bag. John saw the cardiologist on Friday. They said the expected, that his heart valve is damaged. But they couldn't say whether or not this was exacerbated by the recent infection or that extent of damage had been there all along, since he's been living with mitral valve prolapse for years. They want to see him again in three months for a follow-up and to discuss surgery.

Many decisions to make, eventually. For example -- does he go with the pig valve or the artificial valve? The former lasts about 15 years and the latter can last forever; however, with the artificial, he'll have to take blood-thinning medication for the rest of his life, and that stuff comes with its own hazards.

Ugh.

I can't think about it now. I just can't.

This weekend, John was very much like his old self. Unfortunately, he is dealing with a side effect of the antibiotics -- he itches. All over, mercilessly, and it's the worst at night. Parts of his legs broke out in a rash. So he was a bit irritable and restless, snapped at me a few times. We bought him some Eucerin and he said it helped somewhat. But other than that, he was doing quite well. His color was good, he wasn't overly fatigued and was able to get a lot of odds and ends done. He finally opened his birthday presents; he hadn't felt like it before, so they'd been sitting on his coffee table since the beginning of October.

We went to dinner at one of our favorite places. I watched, beaming, as he cleaned his plate, cleaned mine, ate three rolls and then washed it all down with a glass of Cabernet. Seeing him enjoy food again is such a pleasure.

And for the first time in what, six weeks? seven? he kissed me. :-) We've hugged, snuggled, held hands. But he hadn't given me a real kiss since he got sick.

It's the little things.

I don't get to see New Guy tomorrow. He has family visiting from out of town. (sigh) Amazing how spoiled I've become in such a short time. I didn't play for months, didn't even feel like playing. Now the thought of skipping a week makes me cranky.

Oh well. At least I have some work to do.

You know, I've been so distracted, I've completely forgotten to bitch about how it's another freaking holiday season again. I need to get on that.

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 11/12

Happy Friday, everyone. Today's CHoS has only three entries, but I'd say that the last one has enough material for three or four on its own.

Single and looking for a wife .you sound perfect
if you are willing to relocate reply back at we can get toknow each oter better.

Uh... I sound perfect to relocate and marry you? What part of "I'm in a relationship" wasn't clear? Sorry, I'm marriage-averse. I'm also idiot-averse.

i cant beleave how hot and sexy you are in your photo this early morning i love it so much.nothing is nicer then you in a morning.

Beleave [sic] me, honey, there is nothing nice about me in the morning. Must have coffee and a shower. Then I'm still a bitch until noon.

And finally: What do I love, guys? Long, blathering intro emails that are obviously form letters, professing that I just might be the one. Read on:

How'r you doing,hope you fine and in good health condition,i read thru your profile and i really loved what i read and thanks for your intrest,My name is xxxxxxx and i hope u would read my profile and find out more about me,i asked myself some questions and give u the answer,can u also answer them and let me know what you think,i would take them one after the other:

So what do you like to do for fun? Your hobbies and interests can reveal a lot about you, and I'd like to learn more. Is there anything special that you're passionate about? I love swimming,taking walks down the park,observing nature,running and walking,i also love cooking and taking walks by the sea side,I'm passionate about a candle lit dinner with i and my partner holding hands together and sharing intimate things about each other. Are you close to your family? I was asking if you're close to your family in the emotional kind of way, but now that I think about it, do they live nearby, too? I'm not really close to my family,cos i don't have one,but each day and night i really miss them all,they don't live nearby. How would you describe your sense of humor? Some people like silly slapstick, while others go for more subtle stuff. What tickles your funny bone? My sense of humor is quite intresting,i'm shy at first but as we get closer i feel free to express my heart desires. What kind of food do you like? Do you have a favorite restaurant? Some like hot and spicy, others prefer comfort food. If you had to pick one type of food, what would you say is your favorite? I love american food and also italian food and most times,i love to cook for myself.I love Mc donalds.I love comfort food. Wow! We could be a match. Would you like to chat online? It seems like we have a lot in common. I'd love to talk to you more and see what develops. What do you think? here till hear from u soon

(groaning and reaching for the Advil bottle) This one speaks for itself, people. I have nothing to add.

John is into the second week of his IV therapy. He says he is not feeling as fatigued, and although he's still in a weakened state, now it feels more like he has a mild cold instead of a raging flu. He says the docs told him it's OK to stay at the weight he's at right now, because his BMI is fine and a lighter weight is easier on his heart. But between us... he lost 20 pounds, and I would love to see him gain back 10. Perhaps when he's feeling better and can start working out again, he'll put some muscle back on.

It's been a really rough time, but I think I'm seeing some light now. My sweetheart is getting better. I have an awesome new play partner. I actually got a work project this week. And I got Chrossed today (thank you, Chross, for my soaring view count!). For this moment, all is well in my world.

Oh, and because I received a request for a photo that is not bottom-centric, here's a shot of me in happy mode:

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Erica's Helpful Hints

One amasses a degree of knowledge after being involved with the spanking scene for fourteen years. So, whenever the mood strikes, I'm going to share a tidbit of wisdom, to do with whatever you like.

When your top says, "You're getting fifteen [or any other number] with this," it's generally not in your best interest to reply, "Fifteen? Can you count that high?"

Oh, it may be tempting. It will make you feel empowered for about two seconds. But is it worth what happens next?

You decide. :-)

By the way, his comeback to mine was, "No, but you can." Argh.

Who's Sorry Now?

Who's sorry now, who's sorry now,
Whose bum is throbbing, I'm sobbing, and how,
Who's black and blue, who's sniffling too,
My makeup's smeared over you...

Yeah, it's an old song. Deal with it.

Wow. I do believe Mr. New Guy outdid himself. He knew what I needed and he delivered. No nonsense tonight.

Oh, I tried sassing. I mean, I'm still me. He thought it was disrespectful in the beginning that I was giggling. "I don't think you're listening. None of this is registering."

"Say something worth registering and I'll register it," I tossed back blithely.

"I'll just let my hand do the talking," he growled. And he did. Then his belt. A lot. Fast and hard, until I was breathless. I shut up then; he meant business.

He didn't bother with the toy bag tonight. It was just his hand and his belt, fiercely. And I had to answer his questions. I refused to at first, but I quickly realized that wasn't going to fly. "You need this, don't you." Silence. THWACK! "Don't you!" "Yes!"

He struck low in the sweet spot and I buried my face and shrieked into the cushion. "That registered, didn't it?"

"Well, yeah!" I hollered. "That was my leg, stupid!" Oh no. I didn't really say that out loud, did I? Yup. I'm afraid I did. Damn, I'm pretty stupid myself sometimes.

That was the last time I said anything like that. Ouch.

I had to count. I had to say thank you. I had to promise that I'd publicly say I was sorry. I was angry... but I wanted it. I loved this strict side of him. I crave that.

I was so close... but not quite done. So when he said, "Have you learned your lesson?" I whimpered, "Not yet."

"Not yet? Do I need to paddle you?" I didn't answer, just cringed and buried my face. He took that as a yes.

I felt that horrible thing rubbing against my inflamed skin and I knew it was going to hurt like hell. He took his time, teasing me with it, and my legs trembled. "No," I whispered.

"Did you just say 'no'?" I nodded. "You don't really want me to listen to you, do you?" I shook my head.

It only took a few. My resistance shattered, all the stress of the past few weeks gushed forth and I wept. He stopped, sat down next to me, quietly rubbed my bottom and back. I cried for a long time.

My first words when I could speak? "That was so... fucking... HOT." He laughed. "I'm so glad you feel that way... I thought the same thing."

I couldn't look up at him for quite some time, though. I feel so embarrassed and silly after I cry. He didn't push me, just let me keep my face hidden. Said that my tears were beautiful.

For this moment, I am at peace. Well attended to, cared for and de-stressed. Thank you.

I had my way, then had to pay,
I'm glad that I'm sorry now...

Sunday night

Before I get to anything else, I need to stop for a moment and send some comfort to a friend, who had to say goodbye to her beloved, beautiful kitty this weekend. I don't remember whether he was 17 or 18, but she gave him a very good life. He was one of the prettiest cats I've ever seen, with a sweet nature, soulful eyes and a massive rumbling purr.





I wish I could take my friend's pain away. But of course, I can't. The passing of time has to do its healing work. Bye, sweet boy. Hope you're enjoying kitty treats and rolling in catnip somewhere.

* * *


(wiping eyes) OK. Onward and hopefully upward. I'm almost scared to utter this, but the worst may be over with John. The PICC thing in his arm isn't as hideous as I thought. It's inside his left arm, and he has a ribbed sleeve that goes over it and covers everything up. The procedure for giving himself the antibiotics is a bit involved (a lot of disinfecting, injecting saline solution before and after the meds, etc.), but he has it down. I bought him a plastic sleeve for the shower, so he doesn't have to worry about getting it wet. And now they're saying it might be four weeks instead of six.

This weekend, for the first time in weeks, I spent both Friday and Saturday night there and I slept in his bed. He's not feverish and thrashing around anymore. He's very thin, but his color is better. And he's eating! Not a huge amount, but his appetite is definitely returning. We went out for meals and it did my heart good to watch him clean his plate every time. Today after eating a large brunch, he still walked through Whole Foods and helped himself to every one of the free samples. "Oh, sweetie -- these are so good. You need to get one for yourself." Yeah, right. They weren't for me; he wanted seconds! That made me very happy. We also plowed through piles of backed-up mail, caught up with all his bills and threw out a ton of trash. Funny how de-cluttering also unclutters your mind.

Sooo... may the slow return to health continue. I can't pretend he won't need heart surgery sooner or later, because he will. But for now, we don't have to think about that.

Meanwhile, I get to play tomorrow night. Got any clue as to how I feel about that?

(thank you, Dave Wolfe, for that caricature)  :-)

I need some fun and laughs. And now I can enjoy myself, knowing John is finally on the right path. So bring it, New Guy. I'm ready.

Thanks again, guys, for all the good thoughts.

Pixie's "Cause For Paws" spanking video up!

As you may remember, Pixie collected so many contributions for her critter cause, she was going to thank everyone by taking designated minutes of spanking on camera. This year, Lily Anna and I helped her out by taking some of her swats (me from Richard Windsor, Lily Anna from her fiance). Pixie took the rest from her hubby, Audrey Knight and Vanny (oh, and a surprise guest, too). The resulting video is lots of fun!

You can see the video on Spanking Tube or on Pixie's blog. Personally, I think the comments on her blog are much nicer (and classier) than some of the ones left on Spanking Tube. One charming gentleman shared how, after watching Pixie bare her bottom, his "penis nearly exploded." Lovely! Yes, guys, we know that Spanking Tube is pretty much a wankfest site. But can you at least pretend your other head is functioning?

Anyway, Pixie did a great job of editing the vignettes together and I'm very proud to have had my small part in it. :-)

Not much else to say today, kids. I am feeling rather fatigued...probably more mental than physical. Yesterday afternoon, despite the overwhelming desire to get into bed, pull the covers up over my head, close my eyes and sleep for the next six weeks, I dragged my sorry butt to the gym instead. So yay, me.

Have a great weekend, y'all. Don't forget to set your clocks back (unless you live in Arizona, then leave them as they are).

Are we having fun yet?

J was released from the hospital last night. You know what? I'm sick of referring to him as J. Who am I kidding -- pretty much everyone knows his name is John. John, John, John. He's a person, not an initial. No more J.

Anyway... they inserted his PICC yesterday. I've become an instant expert on PICCs in the past 24 hours -- gotta love the Internet. Peripherally Inserted Central Catheters go in the upper arm and the catheter threads up to the vein nearest the heart. John will shoot antibiotics into the PICC once a day. Basically, it looks like this, without getting too graphic:

He has a dressing over the insertion and can put a plastic sleeve over it (or plastic wrap) when he showers. He can drive, work, etc. No lifting, though, and no exertion. Once a week, he goes to the doctor to have the dressing changed, pick up another week's worth of drugs and basically check the thing to make sure all is OK.

I drove to Kaiser to pick him up. We stopped to buy him some groceries and then I got him home and settled in. It was 8:30, so he went straight to bed. I had brought an overnight bag, but he told me I should go on home, as he was OK, was going to sleep and then he'd be up early to leave for work.

So. Six weeks of this thing in his arm, and six weeks of antibiotics. The docs told him he should start feeling better and more energized by next week, but he's still quite sick and he's going to be fatigued easily for a while. They totally OKd his going back to work, though, as long as he just sits at a desk and keeps his hours shortened.

Life, of course, does not stop around us, just because John has been ill. Around the same time John went into the hospital, his 83-year-old mother had a seizure and she ended up in the hospital as well. She's home now, but she's disoriented and her motor skills aren't too great. Also, I spoke to my stepdad; my mother is falling a lot and he can't take her out anymore. They're trying to teach her how to use a walker, but she's resisting it.

I'm telling you, the fun never stops.

Not to sound harsh or unfeeling, but here's the deal. My mother has my stepfather and all her nurses and doctors at the facility. John's mother has three other kids, all local. Actually, one of his sisters gets a pass on helping out with Mom, because she has a business to run. And John gets a pass because, well, he almost died. So his other sister and his brother can take care of Mom. John needs to take care of himself now. And I need to focus on two people: Him and myself.

It was good to take him home. He's so thin and quite frail, but he's quite ambulatory and although his face looked exhausted, the color was a little healthier. He'd had a yellowish-gray cast to his face the past few weeks, and that's gone. Now it's just a matter of time. I'm sure he's privately mourning his beautiful sculpted body, but he'll get that back eventually.

How am I, people ask. Edgy. Emotional. Easily touched off. Earlier this week, a good friend told me that her beloved old cat is in his final days, and I wept as if he were my own cat. Dammit... just writing this is making me cry again. See what I mean?

Time for some fun and distractions. Next week, I'm playing. I need to. I feel like I'm never going to have sex again in this lifetime, but at least I can get spanked, thank goodness. And I need to laugh. Maybe I should stop watching Six Feet Under for a while and watch Marx Brothers movies instead. And look at the bright side: No more election ads every two seconds! The clocks go back this weekend, so I get another whole hour of precious soothing darkness! (Yes, I'm weird. What else is new.)

Onward. Thanks again for the comments, the emails, the calls, everything. I love my friends. :-)

EDIT: On a funny note -- I was looking at my Keyword phrases (what people have used to find my blog) and saw this:

"I have the flu" fever

WTF? I had to laugh -- can you imagine the poor schnook out there, trying to research his flu symptoms and he gets linked to a spanking blog? How perverse is that?

An update

My favorite picture of J and me.

First, to everyone who has left comments/sent emails, expressed concern and offered good wishes, thank you. Usually I respond to each comment individually, but well... you know. I'm sure you'll give me a pass this time.

As we speak, J is having another test done. They're sedating him, then putting a tube down his throat so they can get a different look at what's going on down in there. It takes a while and he'll be out of it afterward, so I'm going to try calling him later this afternoon. He hasn't wanted me to visit, so we've been talking on the phone frequently. I don't know if it's because he doesn't want to stress me out, or because he doesn't like me seeing him like this.

I'm ashamed to admit this, but when I came to see him on Saturday, he looked so wasted and shrunken in that hospital bed, I could barely keep from crying. I sat on the bed next to him and held his hand, but I kept looking away. I didn't even realize I was doing it until he said, "Please look at me... I like it when you look at me." God, I felt like such a little shit. Maybe that's why he doesn't want me to visit.

The good news is that, for the first time today, his blood tested negative for the bacteria. Of course, it has to do that several more times before they will release him. They cannot put the shunt in his arm until his blood is clean. Then he'll have six weeks of home IV treatments to knock all the bacteria out of his heart.

After that course of treatment, he'll be re-evaluated. Surgery may still be necessary, but we'll deal with that then.

Once he gets out, he will be able to function quite normally. He can drive, go to work, etc. They want him to get his strength back, but not overdo it. He's promised me he will work 8-hour days, not these damned crazy 12 to 14-hour days he's been pulling. He will do everything his doctor tells him. I hope he means that, and it's not just a hospital-bed promise. Oh, and he also promised that in the future, if he gets a cold or the flu and it drags on past a normal illness period, he will go get bloodwork.

He's still eating well, so that's a relief. When they give him a break each day from the IV, he goes for a walk around the hospital corridors. He's washing his hair, etc.

People are asking how I am, if I'm taking care of myself. I am. I'm eating. I'm sleeping. I went to the gym yesterday. I am trying to keep busy so I don't think too much. And although I haven't seen anyone, I'm keeping in touch with friends so I don't isolate. I had two invitations to play this week, and I have turned them both down. J wanted me to go ahead, but I cannot. I'm not in the right headspace for it. Maybe next week. I know that's part of taking care of myself too, but this week, it doesn't feel right.

Anyway... that's it for now. We still don't know when he'll be released. Could be tomorrow, Thursday, Friday... I will update.

Thank you all, again, for your caring. You touch my cynical little heart. :-)

Update on the update:  5:35 PM. Just got off the phone with J. The tube-down-the-throat test went well. They're predicting Thursday morning for his release, but that is not carved in stone. Tomorrow, they will insert the shunt and teach him how to use it. He'll need to give himself the IV meds either once or twice a day; it's not a continual thing. 

He said to tell all of you that he appreciates your kind words and support, that they buoy his spirits. Friends are wonderful and we are both very grateful.

Heavy stuff

Please bear with me, guys. I have to slog through some unpleasantness, get it off my chest, let people know.

As I'd mentioned, J went for a complete physical last Thursday. At 11:30 on Friday night, Kaiser called him; all his blood samples had tested positive for bacterial infection. "You need to come into Kaiser Sunset [Hollywood, the closest Kaiser facility with a full emergency hospital]. Now."

He called me. I felt initial panic, then swung into autopilot. I got dressed, packed a few things and drove the 30+ miles to his house, then drove him 20 miles to Kaiser Sunset. We got him admitted to the ER around 1:30. At nearly 3:00 a.m., they told me they'd be keeping him and that I should go home. I went back to his place, went to bed around 4:00.

I won't draw this out; J has a bacterial infection called Strep Varidins, which is bloodborne. They started pumping him full of antibiotics immediately and then started running a battery of tests to see if the infection had affected any of his vital organs.

J has an existing heart condition called mitral valve prolapse, which is essentially a defective heart valve. One can live with it, but it's vulnerable to any infection that attacks the body. Today they did an echocardiogram (a heart scan); sure enough, the weak valve is covered with bacterial growths. In short, J's heart is a freaking petri dish at the moment.

They will run more tests tomorrow morning. One of two things will happen: 1) they will put him on an aggressive antibiotic regimen for the next five to six weeks. He'll have a shunt in his arm and he'll be self-administering the IVs. However, he'll be able to function, leave the hospital, go back to work, etc. Or...2) they'll do open-heart surgery to replace the valve if it's too badly damaged.

This past weekend has been a blur. He called me early yesterday morning when I was at his house, to tell me all the news. Numbly, I listened, wrote down instructions. Call his sister. Find his work cell phone and call his boss. Sort through his mail. Collect a few things to bring to him. Keep calling the ER to find out when he's transferred to a room.

I went to his sister's market to eat something and let her know what's going on. When I took out my wallet to pay for my sandwich, she said, "Put that away." That was very nice of her.

J was moved to room in the late afternoon on Saturday, and I went to visit him around 7:00, bringing the things he'd asked for. The good news was, the antibiotics were starting to kick in, even this soon. His vitals were back to normal. For example, a normal pulse is around 70-72. Because J is so fit and athletic, his normal range is the 50s. On Friday night when he was admitted, it was 93.

And best news of all -- he's eating. He wants to eat; his appetite is coming back. Last night, they goofed and brought him two dinners; he ate all of both of them. That did my heart good, after all these weeks of begging and coaxing him to eat. He's lost 20 pounds.

We will know more tomorrow. For tonight, I wait. Tonight, I try to sleep. My emotions go back and forth; sometimes I'm calm, other times I'm weepy. And sometimes I'm angry. This didn't have to happen. If he hadn't waited five weeks to see the doctor, it might not have gotten this bad. And he knows it, too. He told me I probably saved his life by pushing him like I did. That may or may not be... but I wish I hadn't had to do that.

We've been fighting for the past couple of weeks. I do believe he had the flu at first, because he had all the classic flu symptoms. But when he simply didn't recover and kept having a fever every day, by the third week I knew something else was going on. I pleaded with him to see the doctor again, but he just said, "I don't need to see the doctor; I have the flu. If you keep pushing me, I'll just get stressed out and that will make me feel worse."

I am so scared. I love that goddamn stubborn fool. But through all the fear and worry, there is some sense of relief. At least he is in good hands now, getting the proper treatment. At least I don't have to sit around anymore and watch him deteriorating, powerless to do anything about it and wondering just what the hell is wrong with him.

We will get more answers tomorrow. If he is not having surgery, he may come home as early as Tuesday or Wednesday. All I can do is hope for the best. I'd pray, but I don't believe in it.

I promise I will update when I can. All support and well-wishes are welcome; we could both use them. Thanks for caring.