Some may want to spank me for this, but I could not @#$%ing care less about the Royal Wedding. What a lot of pomp and circumstance. And when I think of what all that money could do for people in Japan... meh. Shut up, Erica.
I saw about five minutes of the pre-wedding footage late last night. What the hell was that thing perched upon Victoria Beckham's forehead? Apparently it needs mowing; it seems to have sprouted weeds.
I've been asked if I'd like to provide a banner for my blog. How does one create a blog banner? I haven't the faintest idea.
Born of our scene yesterday, The Villain had an idea for my upcoming shoot with Spanking Court. He shared it with me and with Cali, and we both want to go for it. Therefore, my appearance is going in a completely different direction. More to come on that. It's going to be real and intense.
I think I need to keep my visits to FetLife to a minimum for the next three days. Too much party stuff.
Where is Chross's Spanking of the Week list? Not that I expect to be on it, since I was such a Debbie Downer this week, but I'm still curious. It's always a great read.
I can't wait to see John tonight. I can't wait to see New Guy on Monday. I am so craving my special people.
Michael Scott's farewell on The Office last night was rather sweet.
Despite the moodiness, I made it to all my workouts this week. Hated every damn minute of them, but felt so much better afterward.
My proofreader started my book and sent me some early feedback yesterday. My confidence in this project soared after reading his comments.
In a few hours, I'm having my second photo shoot. It will be completely different from the one last week, as it's in my place, I have no backdrop, the lighting will be natural, etc. I'm going to wear black panties this time, rather than flowered, so it won't look so busy. And I could not find a perfect peach rose today (the peach roses at the florist looked rather anemic), so I went with a cream-colored one with peachy-pink edges. One needs to be flexible, after all.
Considering what a loner and curmudgeon I am, I really do have some amazing and wonderful people in my life. And more seem to be coming into it all the time.
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Mmmmmmmmmpppphhhhh...
Sorry. I am not capable of articulating any better at the moment.
Boardwalk what? :-)
The Villain was due to arrive at 11:00 a.m. This morning, I checked email and saw I had a message from him on FetLife. Oh, crap, I thought. He has to cancel. But no... he just said he was running late, but he would try to get here by 11:30. Whew.
Since I am compulsively punctual, I was ready anyway. Good thing, too, because he showed up at 11:05.
He'd been reading my blog and knew my state of mind. He asked me how I was feeling. I answered honestly, saying I felt fine. I was in the moment, and the moment was what I wanted. He noticed my trembling, my tension. Observant.
The spanking was a blur of sensation. It wasn't especially hard, except for some flurries thrown in. But it was thorough, and he kept me guessing. I did not know what he would do next. My legs jerked involuntarily and I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to not think, just feel. He'd brought a small leather slapper and alternated that with his hand.
He brought up the party, commenting how people were on their way to Atlantic City now. I sighed and whined, "Yeah, yeah... everyone is in Atlantic City." To which he leaned down and whispered, "I'm not."
That shut me up. Temporarily.
We talked, on and off, during the scene. He used his voice as a tool, drawing things out, making me wait for the next sentence. He had an answer at the ready, no matter what I threw at him. "So tell me," I said at one point, thinking I was challenging him. "How does it feel to have so much power? How does it feel, knowing that people just have to look at your pictures and think 'I want that'?"
I couldn't see his face, but I could feel the smile. "You tell me," he replied. I didn't see that coming. Nice answer.
Of course, there had to be some sass... I am Miss 7-11 Mouth, after all (open 24 hours). "Just think," he teased, "you could be sitting on a plane going to New Jersey right now, and instead, you're getting a spanking. Would you rather be on a plane to New Jersey?" "No, I wouldn't, and shut up," I snapped. I heard him laugh... oh, gawd. I really need to say these things in my thinking voice, not my speaking voice.
About an hour into it, he commented that I'd stopped shaking, that I seemed to be in a more relaxed place. "Good," I murmured. "Does that mean the warmup is over?"
Oh yeah. The warmup was over.
The last half-hour was silent, save for my moans into the bedspread and the cracking of hand and implement upon flesh. I was out of my head at last.
And then he had to go. I tried to get up and my legs didn't want to hold me; the bones and muscles had dissolved into butter. I had to remove my shoes, because I feared I'd fall on my face.
He asked me if I take naps; I said yes. "This might be a good time to take one," he suggested.
Perhaps. But there was another matter that needed urgent attention, first. (blushing)
Bizarre things, emotions. I've been so tightly wound all week. As I released, I laughed and hollered and then, quite unexpectedly, I started bawling. The good kind, though. I felt the tension shoot from me, riding the waves of pleasure. Crazy. How does one laugh and cry at the same time? The juxtaposition of pain and joy never ceases to amaze me.
I will see him again a week from Saturday, when I shoot for Spanking Court. I still don't know what my crime is. It seems that Cali has something diabolical up her sleeve and won't tell me until it's all in place. I have no clue what it is, but I know that The Villain will be the disciplinarian.
He said it won't matter what the crime is or what the court says. Because once he has me strapped to that bench, it's between him and me. And he is keeping a scorecard on me, all the way until next Saturday. He would not tell me what's on it.
(gulp)
Villain -- your lovely Dana referred to you as a "boy scout" in her recent comment here. I think you just earned another merit badge, darlin'.
Oh... and if you're not sick to death of me yet, Todd and Suzy of American Spanking Society have posted an interview with yours truly. It was a lot of fun to fill out my answers to their questions, as many of them were quite original and individually tailored to me. Thanks for asking me, guys!
All right. I think I'm ready for that nap now...
Boardwalk what? :-)
The Villain was due to arrive at 11:00 a.m. This morning, I checked email and saw I had a message from him on FetLife. Oh, crap, I thought. He has to cancel. But no... he just said he was running late, but he would try to get here by 11:30. Whew.
Since I am compulsively punctual, I was ready anyway. Good thing, too, because he showed up at 11:05.
He'd been reading my blog and knew my state of mind. He asked me how I was feeling. I answered honestly, saying I felt fine. I was in the moment, and the moment was what I wanted. He noticed my trembling, my tension. Observant.
The spanking was a blur of sensation. It wasn't especially hard, except for some flurries thrown in. But it was thorough, and he kept me guessing. I did not know what he would do next. My legs jerked involuntarily and I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to not think, just feel. He'd brought a small leather slapper and alternated that with his hand.
He brought up the party, commenting how people were on their way to Atlantic City now. I sighed and whined, "Yeah, yeah... everyone is in Atlantic City." To which he leaned down and whispered, "I'm not."
That shut me up. Temporarily.
We talked, on and off, during the scene. He used his voice as a tool, drawing things out, making me wait for the next sentence. He had an answer at the ready, no matter what I threw at him. "So tell me," I said at one point, thinking I was challenging him. "How does it feel to have so much power? How does it feel, knowing that people just have to look at your pictures and think 'I want that'?"
I couldn't see his face, but I could feel the smile. "You tell me," he replied. I didn't see that coming. Nice answer.
Of course, there had to be some sass... I am Miss 7-11 Mouth, after all (open 24 hours). "Just think," he teased, "you could be sitting on a plane going to New Jersey right now, and instead, you're getting a spanking. Would you rather be on a plane to New Jersey?" "No, I wouldn't, and shut up," I snapped. I heard him laugh... oh, gawd. I really need to say these things in my thinking voice, not my speaking voice.
About an hour into it, he commented that I'd stopped shaking, that I seemed to be in a more relaxed place. "Good," I murmured. "Does that mean the warmup is over?"
Oh yeah. The warmup was over.
The last half-hour was silent, save for my moans into the bedspread and the cracking of hand and implement upon flesh. I was out of my head at last.
And then he had to go. I tried to get up and my legs didn't want to hold me; the bones and muscles had dissolved into butter. I had to remove my shoes, because I feared I'd fall on my face.
He asked me if I take naps; I said yes. "This might be a good time to take one," he suggested.
Perhaps. But there was another matter that needed urgent attention, first. (blushing)
Bizarre things, emotions. I've been so tightly wound all week. As I released, I laughed and hollered and then, quite unexpectedly, I started bawling. The good kind, though. I felt the tension shoot from me, riding the waves of pleasure. Crazy. How does one laugh and cry at the same time? The juxtaposition of pain and joy never ceases to amaze me.
I will see him again a week from Saturday, when I shoot for Spanking Court. I still don't know what my crime is. It seems that Cali has something diabolical up her sleeve and won't tell me until it's all in place. I have no clue what it is, but I know that The Villain will be the disciplinarian.
He said it won't matter what the crime is or what the court says. Because once he has me strapped to that bench, it's between him and me. And he is keeping a scorecard on me, all the way until next Saturday. He would not tell me what's on it.
(gulp)
Villain -- your lovely Dana referred to you as a "boy scout" in her recent comment here. I think you just earned another merit badge, darlin'.
Oh... and if you're not sick to death of me yet, Todd and Suzy of American Spanking Society have posted an interview with yours truly. It was a lot of fun to fill out my answers to their questions, as many of them were quite original and individually tailored to me. Thanks for asking me, guys!
All right. I think I'm ready for that nap now...
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Getting better
This Beatles song perfectly demonstrates for me what was so freaking brilliant about the partnership of Lennon and McCartney: they balanced each other. There's Paul, all cheery and upbeat with his "I've got to admit it's getting better, just a little better, all the time," and then John the grumpy realist chimes in with "It can't get no worse!" Love it.
Thanks to everyone who was concerned about my funk. It happens. My brain wiring is screwy and sometimes the serotonin and all that other gobbledygook goes awry. Sometimes, something in particular will set it off, other times not. But it passes. One morning, I'll wake up and no longer feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
Today, I feel tired, but I'm not bursting into tears every time I read a post or comment about the party this weekend. This is a very good sign. The negative nattering in my head has ceased, and good riddance.
Anyway... yesterday, I threw myself headlong into CreateSpace, which is the Amazon platform for self-publishing. I still haven't decided on cover art -- I'm not completely convinced that I have THE book cover from last week's shoot and I have another shoot scheduled for Friday -- but I figured I could start the formatting process.
Fortunately, I enjoy these computer challenges, figuring them out. Because things are always more complicated than you think they will be. For example, CS indicated that once I chose my book size, all I had to do for formatting the interior was to paste my document into one of their handy-dandy templates, and poof! Done! Right. I downloaded their 6 x 9 formatting template, and then copied and pasted my book file into it. What a mess. The fonts got all screwed up, and there was a horizontal line running across the bottom of each page that I could not figure out how to remove.
So I scrapped the template and searched the site for reminders on how to format in Word. Ah yes -- File + Page Setup + margins. Then change the type from flush left to justified (squared off on the left and right), add in hyphenation so I don't have those ugly gappy lines, then read through the entire document to make sure I didn't have any hyphenated widows (when a paragraph ends with just a piece of a word. I hate that.). I ended up with 301 pages; that's a fairly reasonable amount, no? For several minutes, I was freaked out because the document was over 600 pages! Then I realized that instead of a .5" margin at the bottom, I had a 5" margin. Oops.
Next, I looked up the various free online programs that will convert a Word doc into a PDF. The first one I tried didn't work. But the second one was a complete success. So now I know how to do the conversion when the file is finalized. Like I said, I love it when I figure these details out.
In the midst of this experimenting, I got an email out of the blue from someone I don't know; one of my readers, offering to proofread my book for me. He wishes to remain anonymous, but we exchanged several messages and I liked him immediately; plus, I could see that he was quite the excellent writer himself. I asked him why he would offer to do this for a perfect stranger, and he replied that he felt like I was already providing him a free service with the entertainment from my blog, and he wanted to return the favor. Besides, he was curious. :-)
So now, I have a proofreader, my second pair of eyes. I have read this damn thing over and over and OVER and yet I know there are things I've missed. So thank you, kind anonymous person. I appreciate this greatly.
It's Wednesday and my favorite TV shows are on tonight.
Oh... and did I mention that The Villain is coming over tomorrow? He is.
Stay tuned...
Thanks to everyone who was concerned about my funk. It happens. My brain wiring is screwy and sometimes the serotonin and all that other gobbledygook goes awry. Sometimes, something in particular will set it off, other times not. But it passes. One morning, I'll wake up and no longer feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
Today, I feel tired, but I'm not bursting into tears every time I read a post or comment about the party this weekend. This is a very good sign. The negative nattering in my head has ceased, and good riddance.
Anyway... yesterday, I threw myself headlong into CreateSpace, which is the Amazon platform for self-publishing. I still haven't decided on cover art -- I'm not completely convinced that I have THE book cover from last week's shoot and I have another shoot scheduled for Friday -- but I figured I could start the formatting process.
Fortunately, I enjoy these computer challenges, figuring them out. Because things are always more complicated than you think they will be. For example, CS indicated that once I chose my book size, all I had to do for formatting the interior was to paste my document into one of their handy-dandy templates, and poof! Done! Right. I downloaded their 6 x 9 formatting template, and then copied and pasted my book file into it. What a mess. The fonts got all screwed up, and there was a horizontal line running across the bottom of each page that I could not figure out how to remove.
So I scrapped the template and searched the site for reminders on how to format in Word. Ah yes -- File + Page Setup + margins. Then change the type from flush left to justified (squared off on the left and right), add in hyphenation so I don't have those ugly gappy lines, then read through the entire document to make sure I didn't have any hyphenated widows (when a paragraph ends with just a piece of a word. I hate that.). I ended up with 301 pages; that's a fairly reasonable amount, no? For several minutes, I was freaked out because the document was over 600 pages! Then I realized that instead of a .5" margin at the bottom, I had a 5" margin. Oops.
Next, I looked up the various free online programs that will convert a Word doc into a PDF. The first one I tried didn't work. But the second one was a complete success. So now I know how to do the conversion when the file is finalized. Like I said, I love it when I figure these details out.
In the midst of this experimenting, I got an email out of the blue from someone I don't know; one of my readers, offering to proofread my book for me. He wishes to remain anonymous, but we exchanged several messages and I liked him immediately; plus, I could see that he was quite the excellent writer himself. I asked him why he would offer to do this for a perfect stranger, and he replied that he felt like I was already providing him a free service with the entertainment from my blog, and he wanted to return the favor. Besides, he was curious. :-)
So now, I have a proofreader, my second pair of eyes. I have read this damn thing over and over and OVER and yet I know there are things I've missed. So thank you, kind anonymous person. I appreciate this greatly.
It's Wednesday and my favorite TV shows are on tonight.
Oh... and did I mention that The Villain is coming over tomorrow? He is.
Stay tuned...
Monday, April 25, 2011
Blech and blue
Enough of this. Enough, enough, enough. Blahs, begone, I will have no more of thee.
Yeah, right. Like they listen.
Not the best of weekends. Poor John was stressed out over work issues, and he was so thrown off his game that he lost his keys. He has spares, so it could have been worse, but John, like me, needs control and order in his life and when he loses things, it makes him feel out of control and very upset. I get this, so I did my best to soothe him. At least we didn't get in a fight, but he was tense and snappish.
I swore I wasn't going to do this. I swore up and down and sideways... looks like I'm a liar. But I can't help it. Every time I log on, there it is. Every time I go to FetLife, it's all over the feed, all over the forums. Every time I look at the blog roll, someone is blogging about it. The Boardwalk Badness Weekend party in Atlantic City next weekend. The Party of the Year. The one with people coming from the UK, Ireland and all over this country. The one nearly all my friends are attending.
I WANNA BE THERE SO BADLY, I COULD FUCKING CROAK!!!!
There, I said it.
I know what some of you are thinking. "Well, you could have gone too, why didn't you?" (And others, no doubt, are thinking, "Oh, STFU already," but sorry, I'm on a roll now.) Sure, I could have gone, for a lot of money. Which I don't have. Granted, John has it. However, he already pays for one big party weekend per year, and I can't bring myself to ask him for another, considering that these spanking parties are my thing and not really his. Last year, we did go to FMS as well as SL, so this year didn't feel like the right time to ask him for two parties again.
Why do I want to go so badly? I'm not lacking for spankings these days -- I have quantity AND quality with New Guy and I couldn't be happier in that area. But I miss parties. I miss the crowds, the excitement. I want to see the friends I never get to see, laugh and hug and brat and have a nonstop whirlwind of socializing. I want to be "a part of." Reading all the pre-party buzz (then the party buzz and the post-party buzz) kicks in those old dusty tapes, that horrible old feeling of being on the outside with my nose pressed against the glass, looking at the fun going on inside. Stupid, I know. Childish.
People have been writing to me, asking if I'm going. At least I know I'll be missed by some, and that's nice. But oh damn, I feel like I'm missing so much. Don't worry... there won't be a repeat performance of this when the FMS and Texas All-State parties roll around. I don't feel the same way about them... BBW seems like the place to be. On Thursday, 175 people are arriving, and the damn thing doesn't even officially start until Friday, so I can only imagine what the final count will be.
Focus on something else, Erica. Unfortunately, my book is at a standstill, because I still don't have a cover photo. I'm not completely thrilled with the shots I got last week, and I'm meeting with another photographer. But that won't be until this Friday. And I've been feeling weird about the book itself, wondering just what I've gotten myself into. Who wants to read about my life, anyway? Aagggh! I can't take that seriously... it's just nerves. And a lot of dredged-up memories. This weekend, I found myself relating an old memory to John, one from when I was about nine years old, and then there I was, tearing up at the dinner table. "What's wrong with me?" I asked him. "You've got a lot of old stuff coming up," he said. I guess I do.
I do have a couple of fun things to look forward to, but in this whacko mood I'm in, I'm afraid to talk about them. I feel like if I want them too much, they'll be taken away.
I need to get to the gym; perhaps that will help. And in the meantime, looks like it's time to up the meds:
Yeah, right. Like they listen.
Not the best of weekends. Poor John was stressed out over work issues, and he was so thrown off his game that he lost his keys. He has spares, so it could have been worse, but John, like me, needs control and order in his life and when he loses things, it makes him feel out of control and very upset. I get this, so I did my best to soothe him. At least we didn't get in a fight, but he was tense and snappish.
I swore I wasn't going to do this. I swore up and down and sideways... looks like I'm a liar. But I can't help it. Every time I log on, there it is. Every time I go to FetLife, it's all over the feed, all over the forums. Every time I look at the blog roll, someone is blogging about it. The Boardwalk Badness Weekend party in Atlantic City next weekend. The Party of the Year. The one with people coming from the UK, Ireland and all over this country. The one nearly all my friends are attending.
I WANNA BE THERE SO BADLY, I COULD FUCKING CROAK!!!!
There, I said it.
I know what some of you are thinking. "Well, you could have gone too, why didn't you?" (And others, no doubt, are thinking, "Oh, STFU already," but sorry, I'm on a roll now.) Sure, I could have gone, for a lot of money. Which I don't have. Granted, John has it. However, he already pays for one big party weekend per year, and I can't bring myself to ask him for another, considering that these spanking parties are my thing and not really his. Last year, we did go to FMS as well as SL, so this year didn't feel like the right time to ask him for two parties again.
Why do I want to go so badly? I'm not lacking for spankings these days -- I have quantity AND quality with New Guy and I couldn't be happier in that area. But I miss parties. I miss the crowds, the excitement. I want to see the friends I never get to see, laugh and hug and brat and have a nonstop whirlwind of socializing. I want to be "a part of." Reading all the pre-party buzz (then the party buzz and the post-party buzz) kicks in those old dusty tapes, that horrible old feeling of being on the outside with my nose pressed against the glass, looking at the fun going on inside. Stupid, I know. Childish.
People have been writing to me, asking if I'm going. At least I know I'll be missed by some, and that's nice. But oh damn, I feel like I'm missing so much. Don't worry... there won't be a repeat performance of this when the FMS and Texas All-State parties roll around. I don't feel the same way about them... BBW seems like the place to be. On Thursday, 175 people are arriving, and the damn thing doesn't even officially start until Friday, so I can only imagine what the final count will be.
Focus on something else, Erica. Unfortunately, my book is at a standstill, because I still don't have a cover photo. I'm not completely thrilled with the shots I got last week, and I'm meeting with another photographer. But that won't be until this Friday. And I've been feeling weird about the book itself, wondering just what I've gotten myself into. Who wants to read about my life, anyway? Aagggh! I can't take that seriously... it's just nerves. And a lot of dredged-up memories. This weekend, I found myself relating an old memory to John, one from when I was about nine years old, and then there I was, tearing up at the dinner table. "What's wrong with me?" I asked him. "You've got a lot of old stuff coming up," he said. I guess I do.
I do have a couple of fun things to look forward to, but in this whacko mood I'm in, I'm afraid to talk about them. I feel like if I want them too much, they'll be taken away.
I need to get to the gym; perhaps that will help. And in the meantime, looks like it's time to up the meds:
Friday, April 22, 2011
Correspondence Hall of Shame, 4/22
Happy Good Friday. Happy Chross Day (thank you again, Chross). Happy Earth Day. OK, I think that covers everything.
This CHoS is short, but I thought posting something humorous might help counteract this blue mood I'm in.
I changed the name on this one, because it works better if I leave a name in place. Granted, this one isn't really rude, but as you'll see, it's a bit strange:
My name is Joe and I am 25 years old! I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do some online sessions! I think you are really quite cute and would love to punish you! Maybe we could work it out to do a real sessions!
Thanks for the time, Joe!
Someone needs to disable this guy's exclamation point key. Can you imagine doing an online session with him? "Bad girl! Hold still! Smack! Smack! You need to be punished! I'm going to punish you! I'm taking you over my knee right now! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
But here's the gem of the week:
OK, first -- STOP YELLING. Second, not in a million years would I be your lover. Third, you mention every possible thing that can be done to an ass... except the one thing I want, which is spanking. Oh, wait. There is one more thing that can be done to an ass -- kicking it out the cyber door.
I wonder if people with insatiable ass fetishes become proctologists?
And finally -- I've mentioned that on occasion, I find something so completely off the wall in my keyword search section, it cries out to be posted:
Sure, that makes sense. Naturally, a search for Easter Seals in North Carolina would lead to a Jewish spanko in California. (insert shrugging with perplexed face emoticon here)
To everyone who celebrates Easter, have a good one. And even if you don't, eat some chocolate anyway. Have a great weekend, y'all.
This CHoS is short, but I thought posting something humorous might help counteract this blue mood I'm in.
I changed the name on this one, because it works better if I leave a name in place. Granted, this one isn't really rude, but as you'll see, it's a bit strange:
My name is Joe and I am 25 years old! I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do some online sessions! I think you are really quite cute and would love to punish you! Maybe we could work it out to do a real sessions!
Thanks for the time, Joe!
Someone needs to disable this guy's exclamation point key. Can you imagine doing an online session with him? "Bad girl! Hold still! Smack! Smack! You need to be punished! I'm going to punish you! I'm taking you over my knee right now! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
But here's the gem of the week:
I AM PERFECT FOR YOU LOVER! SERIOUSLY I HAVE AN INSATIABLE ASS FETISH THAT WOULD AMAZE YOU AND I AM ALWAYS IN NEED OF A NEW BOTTOM.WHENEVER-WHEREVER I AM ADDICTED TO LICKING,SUCKING,AND FUCKING A NICE ASS LIKE YOURS.PLEASE MESSAGE ME ASAP SINCE WE LIVE SO CLOSE.I PROMISE YOU'LL BE PLEASED.
OK, first -- STOP YELLING. Second, not in a million years would I be your lover. Third, you mention every possible thing that can be done to an ass... except the one thing I want, which is spanking. Oh, wait. There is one more thing that can be done to an ass -- kicking it out the cyber door.
I wonder if people with insatiable ass fetishes become proctologists?
And finally -- I've mentioned that on occasion, I find something so completely off the wall in my keyword search section, it cries out to be posted:
easter seals ucp yanceyville nc
Sure, that makes sense. Naturally, a search for Easter Seals in North Carolina would lead to a Jewish spanko in California. (insert shrugging with perplexed face emoticon here)
To everyone who celebrates Easter, have a good one. And even if you don't, eat some chocolate anyway. Have a great weekend, y'all.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Some days, I feel really great
This, however, is not one of them.
I took down the cover photo blog; it was a mistake to put it up. I got over-eager and posted pictures that were of poor quality and that was pointless. As things stand now, I have nearly 200 photos, some of them quite good and a lot of them not so hot, and I need to look through them very carefully. I had my mind fixated on a horizontal shot, but Zelle made the excellent point that a horizontal shot on a vertical cover often leaves too much empty space and isn't as eye-catching. So I need to rethink that as well. Things are always more complicated than they seem. Or maybe I just make them that way.
I'm feeling tired and blech and hypersensitive today and I don't know why. Well, I sorta do, but I don't feel like being a Wendy Whiner, so I'm going to keep it to myself and deal with it. This too shall pass.
Think of pleasant things. It's my favorite kind of day outside -- cloudy. I have a nice new haircut. I get to see my sweetheart tomorrow.
So there's this woman throwing herself all over New Guy on FetLife, benevolently offering to make room on her busy schedule and reward him by freeing up her Monday nights for him. Monday nights? The nerve! Is it a bad thing that I feel like pulling her hair? :-) Chalk it up to my rotten mood. Tomorrow, I'll find it quite amusing.
I usually go to the gym on Thursdays and take a class, but I think, with this everyone-is-in-my-&#$%ing-way mood I'm in, I should stay home and exercise here instead.
Anyone know where I could get a shirt with this on it?
I took down the cover photo blog; it was a mistake to put it up. I got over-eager and posted pictures that were of poor quality and that was pointless. As things stand now, I have nearly 200 photos, some of them quite good and a lot of them not so hot, and I need to look through them very carefully. I had my mind fixated on a horizontal shot, but Zelle made the excellent point that a horizontal shot on a vertical cover often leaves too much empty space and isn't as eye-catching. So I need to rethink that as well. Things are always more complicated than they seem. Or maybe I just make them that way.
I'm feeling tired and blech and hypersensitive today and I don't know why. Well, I sorta do, but I don't feel like being a Wendy Whiner, so I'm going to keep it to myself and deal with it. This too shall pass.
Think of pleasant things. It's my favorite kind of day outside -- cloudy. I have a nice new haircut. I get to see my sweetheart tomorrow.
So there's this woman throwing herself all over New Guy on FetLife, benevolently offering to make room on her busy schedule and reward him by freeing up her Monday nights for him. Monday nights? The nerve! Is it a bad thing that I feel like pulling her hair? :-) Chalk it up to my rotten mood. Tomorrow, I'll find it quite amusing.
I usually go to the gym on Thursdays and take a class, but I think, with this everyone-is-in-my-&#$%ing-way mood I'm in, I should stay home and exercise here instead.
Anyone know where I could get a shirt with this on it?
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thou shalt not laugh at thy top
Or else thine ass is grass.
On FetLife, one of New Guy's friends was teasing him on his wall, scolding him for not saying "thank you" to a compliment, calling him "young man," etc. And he was all "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am." So of course, I had to give him a bunch of noise about that, didn't I?
Seems he took umbrage at that, saying I was spying on his page and making fun of him. I protested that he follows MY activity, and he said, "It's OK when I do it." Top logic at its finest, folks. Anyway, he deemed that I was lacking in manners, laughing at him. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Even after a very long OTK session.
He did take a break in the middle of it -- but only to send me to the kitchen to fetch the wooden spoon. After I got up, he said, "Those panties stay down and that dress stays up." I yanked the dress back down anyway. "Pull that dress back up or it comes off," he threatened. I pulled it back up.
I'd forgotten how much that @#$%ing spoon hurts. Makes those lovely ovals, too. But that was just the beginning.
Down on all fours on the carpet I went, for his belt and the strap. Had to switch things up, he said. Couldn't have my readers getting bored, could we? Nahhhhh...
I still couldn't stop giggling though. So he moved me to the ottoman, where he could really lay into me. I thought for a brief moment I was finally settling down... then "We Are The Champions" came on. When Freddie Mercury sang, "No time for losers..." I started cracking up again. But I didn't want to tell NG what I was laughing at.
He managed to coax it out of me, however. So I told him that when I heard that "no time for losers" line, I'd wanted to say, "Yeah! So go home!"
"Oh, I'm a loser now, huh?" The strap suddenly got much faster and much heavier. OK, I asked for that.
"I think you need 15 more good ones with this -- you're going to count them and say after each one: 'You are a winner!' " (groan)
We managed to get up to eight when he started critiquing the enthusiasm of my delivery. Wanted more sincerity, he said. Arrggh. He liked my tone after the count of nine, but after ten, he started up with that "Nope, I'm not hearing the enthusiasm" sh*t again.
So after stroke eleven, I hollered with all the energy I could muster: "Eleven -- you are a wiener!!"
He started over at number one. OK, I guess I asked for that too.
But finally, he prevailed, I stopped my giggling and mouthing off. "It really isn't wise to say stuff like that when someone is spanking you," he reminded me.
Guess I'm not all that wise. A wise-ass, maybe.
Hey! Aren't my VS Cheekies cute?
Of course, they didn't stay up long.
Geeeez... why do I bother wearing nice panties for this guy...
Think I was done laughing? Think again. Just before he left, he accidentally knocked a glass of water over, and I went to get some paper towels. I mopped up until a wad of them was saturated... and as he bent over his toy bag putting things away, I stuffed the wet towels down the back of his shirt. :-D
It was cute to watch him dance. He made me dance after that, but it was so worth it.
He won't be able to make it next Monday, unfortunately. Already I feel a little melancholy, thinking how I'll miss him next week. Damn, am I spoiled, or what?
Thanks for another great night, sweetie... and for being such a good sport. You know I think you're the bestest. ♥
On FetLife, one of New Guy's friends was teasing him on his wall, scolding him for not saying "thank you" to a compliment, calling him "young man," etc. And he was all "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am." So of course, I had to give him a bunch of noise about that, didn't I?
Seems he took umbrage at that, saying I was spying on his page and making fun of him. I protested that he follows MY activity, and he said, "It's OK when I do it." Top logic at its finest, folks. Anyway, he deemed that I was lacking in manners, laughing at him. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Even after a very long OTK session.
He did take a break in the middle of it -- but only to send me to the kitchen to fetch the wooden spoon. After I got up, he said, "Those panties stay down and that dress stays up." I yanked the dress back down anyway. "Pull that dress back up or it comes off," he threatened. I pulled it back up.
I'd forgotten how much that @#$%ing spoon hurts. Makes those lovely ovals, too. But that was just the beginning.
Down on all fours on the carpet I went, for his belt and the strap. Had to switch things up, he said. Couldn't have my readers getting bored, could we? Nahhhhh...
I still couldn't stop giggling though. So he moved me to the ottoman, where he could really lay into me. I thought for a brief moment I was finally settling down... then "We Are The Champions" came on. When Freddie Mercury sang, "No time for losers..." I started cracking up again. But I didn't want to tell NG what I was laughing at.
He managed to coax it out of me, however. So I told him that when I heard that "no time for losers" line, I'd wanted to say, "Yeah! So go home!"
"Oh, I'm a loser now, huh?" The strap suddenly got much faster and much heavier. OK, I asked for that.
"I think you need 15 more good ones with this -- you're going to count them and say after each one: 'You are a winner!' " (groan)
We managed to get up to eight when he started critiquing the enthusiasm of my delivery. Wanted more sincerity, he said. Arrggh. He liked my tone after the count of nine, but after ten, he started up with that "Nope, I'm not hearing the enthusiasm" sh*t again.
So after stroke eleven, I hollered with all the energy I could muster: "Eleven -- you are a wiener!!"
He started over at number one. OK, I guess I asked for that too.
But finally, he prevailed, I stopped my giggling and mouthing off. "It really isn't wise to say stuff like that when someone is spanking you," he reminded me.
Guess I'm not all that wise. A wise-ass, maybe.
Hey! Aren't my VS Cheekies cute?
Of course, they didn't stay up long.
Geeeez... why do I bother wearing nice panties for this guy...
Think I was done laughing? Think again. Just before he left, he accidentally knocked a glass of water over, and I went to get some paper towels. I mopped up until a wad of them was saturated... and as he bent over his toy bag putting things away, I stuffed the wet towels down the back of his shirt. :-D
It was cute to watch him dance. He made me dance after that, but it was so worth it.
He won't be able to make it next Monday, unfortunately. Already I feel a little melancholy, thinking how I'll miss him next week. Damn, am I spoiled, or what?
Thanks for another great night, sweetie... and for being such a good sport. You know I think you're the bestest. ♥
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Insert clever title here
I hate it when I can't come up with an interesting title. I've been sitting here staring at a blank blog for several minutes, so screw it. Sometimes the Muse of Clever Openings goes into hibernation.
Hope everyone had a nice weekend. It was hot here, so John and I escaped to the mall yesterday afternoon/evening. He wanted to go to Nordstrom to buy some new dress shirts, and I had a special treat for him -- I wanted to go to Victoria's Secret.
I swear, we can't walk by a VS or a Frederick's without John trying to physically drag me in there. Personally, I think VS is kind of a ripoff. They're quite expensive, plus I found out long ago what their "secret" is: Their stuff looks fantastic on the models and mannequins, but on us mere mortal women past 20? Notsomuch. I have yet to try on a bra there that flatters me. However, they do have a very cute line of panties called Cheekies, and I wanted to take advantage of their "3 for $30" sale. Figured I could use something new and cute for my book cover photo. Besides, one of my favorite pairs from Frederick's finally fell apart last week. That's the trouble with lacy garments; they have a tendency to do that.
John, of course, wanted to look at everything in every corner of the store, the perv. "Sweetie, how about these? How about those?" I, however, didn't feel like spending too much time in there; that store makes me feel ancient and all too aware that I'm wearing mismatched underwear under my clothes. So I selected three pairs of Cheekies, paid for them and we were out of there. I did model one of them for him today. It was the least I could do, after all.
I was sad to read this weekend that Arthur Marx died. Who the hell was Arthur Marx, some of you may be saying. Besides being a prolific author, playwright and a TV writer (and one of my father's peers), he was Groucho Marx's son. (And if any of you say "who was Groucho Marx," I'm going to shoot myself.) Most of you know I have loved the Marx Brothers since I was a kid. They're all long gone, and now their kids are passing on as well.
I felt a sort of "six degrees" connection with Arthur Marx -- never met him, but my father knew him. Dad had two of Marx's books, both autographed, and tonight I dug them out of my bookshelves. For one of them, Marx interviewed my father, because the book was about the partnership of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, and Dad wrote for them. The inscription reads: "To [Dad's name], without whom this really couldn't have been written." Nice! In the other book, Son of Groucho, Marx wrote, "To [Dad's name], a man who speaks the truth in a world of liars." I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I like the sound of it. Dad was outspoken, no question about that. But he didn't BS you.
I saw the obituary in the paper as I sat having lunch with John and his mother, and I exclaimed, "Oh, no..." So of course, I had to explain myself. John's mom said, "Wow... your dad knew so many famous people. That kind of makes you famous by association!"
(rolling eyes) Uh...no, it doesn't. The only thing I'm famous for has nothing to do with vintage comedy. :-) And I know I've requested this before, but it bears repeating: When I start saying inane things like that, please, shoot me very quickly and mercifully in the head.
Tomorrow will be several degrees cooler, which makes me happy. Oh, and it's Monday. You know how much I love Mondays.
Hope everyone had a nice weekend. It was hot here, so John and I escaped to the mall yesterday afternoon/evening. He wanted to go to Nordstrom to buy some new dress shirts, and I had a special treat for him -- I wanted to go to Victoria's Secret.
I swear, we can't walk by a VS or a Frederick's without John trying to physically drag me in there. Personally, I think VS is kind of a ripoff. They're quite expensive, plus I found out long ago what their "secret" is: Their stuff looks fantastic on the models and mannequins, but on us mere mortal women past 20? Notsomuch. I have yet to try on a bra there that flatters me. However, they do have a very cute line of panties called Cheekies, and I wanted to take advantage of their "3 for $30" sale. Figured I could use something new and cute for my book cover photo. Besides, one of my favorite pairs from Frederick's finally fell apart last week. That's the trouble with lacy garments; they have a tendency to do that.
John, of course, wanted to look at everything in every corner of the store, the perv. "Sweetie, how about these? How about those?" I, however, didn't feel like spending too much time in there; that store makes me feel ancient and all too aware that I'm wearing mismatched underwear under my clothes. So I selected three pairs of Cheekies, paid for them and we were out of there. I did model one of them for him today. It was the least I could do, after all.
I was sad to read this weekend that Arthur Marx died. Who the hell was Arthur Marx, some of you may be saying. Besides being a prolific author, playwright and a TV writer (and one of my father's peers), he was Groucho Marx's son. (And if any of you say "who was Groucho Marx," I'm going to shoot myself.) Most of you know I have loved the Marx Brothers since I was a kid. They're all long gone, and now their kids are passing on as well.
I felt a sort of "six degrees" connection with Arthur Marx -- never met him, but my father knew him. Dad had two of Marx's books, both autographed, and tonight I dug them out of my bookshelves. For one of them, Marx interviewed my father, because the book was about the partnership of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, and Dad wrote for them. The inscription reads: "To [Dad's name], without whom this really couldn't have been written." Nice! In the other book, Son of Groucho, Marx wrote, "To [Dad's name], a man who speaks the truth in a world of liars." I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I like the sound of it. Dad was outspoken, no question about that. But he didn't BS you.
I saw the obituary in the paper as I sat having lunch with John and his mother, and I exclaimed, "Oh, no..." So of course, I had to explain myself. John's mom said, "Wow... your dad knew so many famous people. That kind of makes you famous by association!"
(rolling eyes) Uh...no, it doesn't. The only thing I'm famous for has nothing to do with vintage comedy. :-) And I know I've requested this before, but it bears repeating: When I start saying inane things like that, please, shoot me very quickly and mercifully in the head.
Tomorrow will be several degrees cooler, which makes me happy. Oh, and it's Monday. You know how much I love Mondays.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Happy Tax Day
Or is that an oxymoron? Perhaps I should say Happy Chross Day. Can I briefly mention the amazing power that man has in the blogosphere? Last week, I didn't make the cut, and I swear my page hits went into the dumpster. (sniff) By midweek this week, even with all my blathering about books and my Monday scene, they were pitiful next to what I usually get. Did anyone else's views take a nosedive too -- was it just one of those weeks? Whatever. I am being obsessive about the numbers game. Can't help it, though, when I hear something like what Mr. Smith the author told me last week. We were talking about popular sites and he told me of a blog/website of a popular femdom, I don't remember her name. On average, she gets 20,000 hits a day. Twenty-thousand???? Sometimes I feel like I am batting for the wrong team!
Perhaps for another blog post sometime, I should open the floor about the mystique and worship of female dominants. I saw it when I worked at Passive Arts, I see it on the various kink sites, I have seen it through John. It's fascinating to me.
I posted a similar request to the one I did on Model Mayhem, only this time on FetLife in a Models and Photographers forum. What a difference! I've received several nice offers and now I have to decide which way to go. I suppose I could have more than one photographer take some shots, right? Choices are good things. Once I get this photo, then I can start addressing the formatting and finalizing. Exciting stuff!
And in three weeks, I shoot for Spanking Court. I have no idea what my "crime" is going to be... any ideas that haven't been done to death? I know I'm doing two sessions; they offered me a choice of 1-3 sessions in one shooting day, and I decided to go for the middle option. I can't wait!
All this fun activity will help take my mind off the Boardwalk Badness Weekend in Atlantic City, end of this month. So many of my friends are going and it sounds like it's going to be quite the event. (sigh) Because the hotel is small, the body count is limited and they filled up months ago, but we wouldn't have been able to make it anyway. John ends up paying for nearly everything on these weekends, since he is in so much better financial shape than I. And since spanking parties are really my thing more than his, I feel guilty about asking him to do more than one a year, because they are quite expensive. Perhaps next year, we'll consider doing both BBW and SL. After all, we did SL and Florida Moonshine last year. Meanwhile, I have friends who have promised to give me all the details.
Back to the blog hits thing for a moment -- have I gotten complacent? Has my blog become too redundant? Anything you guys would enjoy seeing discussed here? Sometimes I feel like I've covered every topic and aspect of the scene at least twice. There are so damn many of us out there, chattering away on these blogs. What keeps people coming back, when the topics cycle and recycle all over the blogosphere?
Yes, I'm all over the place. Focus, Erica. There is a stack of mail to attend to, a birthday card that must be addressed and mailed (yes, some of us still send those), errands to run, chores to do, must get ready to head for John's. Have a great weekend, y'all.
Perhaps for another blog post sometime, I should open the floor about the mystique and worship of female dominants. I saw it when I worked at Passive Arts, I see it on the various kink sites, I have seen it through John. It's fascinating to me.
I posted a similar request to the one I did on Model Mayhem, only this time on FetLife in a Models and Photographers forum. What a difference! I've received several nice offers and now I have to decide which way to go. I suppose I could have more than one photographer take some shots, right? Choices are good things. Once I get this photo, then I can start addressing the formatting and finalizing. Exciting stuff!
And in three weeks, I shoot for Spanking Court. I have no idea what my "crime" is going to be... any ideas that haven't been done to death? I know I'm doing two sessions; they offered me a choice of 1-3 sessions in one shooting day, and I decided to go for the middle option. I can't wait!
All this fun activity will help take my mind off the Boardwalk Badness Weekend in Atlantic City, end of this month. So many of my friends are going and it sounds like it's going to be quite the event. (sigh) Because the hotel is small, the body count is limited and they filled up months ago, but we wouldn't have been able to make it anyway. John ends up paying for nearly everything on these weekends, since he is in so much better financial shape than I. And since spanking parties are really my thing more than his, I feel guilty about asking him to do more than one a year, because they are quite expensive. Perhaps next year, we'll consider doing both BBW and SL. After all, we did SL and Florida Moonshine last year. Meanwhile, I have friends who have promised to give me all the details.
Back to the blog hits thing for a moment -- have I gotten complacent? Has my blog become too redundant? Anything you guys would enjoy seeing discussed here? Sometimes I feel like I've covered every topic and aspect of the scene at least twice. There are so damn many of us out there, chattering away on these blogs. What keeps people coming back, when the topics cycle and recycle all over the blogosphere?
Yes, I'm all over the place. Focus, Erica. There is a stack of mail to attend to, a birthday card that must be addressed and mailed (yes, some of us still send those), errands to run, chores to do, must get ready to head for John's. Have a great weekend, y'all.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Continuing adventures in pre-publishing
It's been less than a week since I made the announcement about having written a book. I asked for feedback, and wow... people have been amazing! Thank you to everyone who has sent encouraging words and suggestions.
There are many decisions to make, many options to consider. Used to be that when you wrote a book, you got an agent (quite the process in itself, from what I've heard) and they submitted it to publishers. Now, with the burgeoning self-publishing industry, all that has changed.
In the past few days, I've had communications with three published authors: fetish erotica writer Annabel Joseph; John Smith, author of Kink And The City: An Englishman In New York; and of course, our own Devlin O'Neill. They were very kind to give me their time and they helped me reach one very important decision: I'm taking the self-publishing route. For many reasons, but here is perhaps the one that means the most to me: Preserving my book as I envisioned it, and not having some editor at a publishing house try to tweak it and mold it into something that will "sell better." Annabel described this as a "soul-deadening experience," and I can well imagine that it is. Granted, there is still a certain cachet in being traditionally published, and some people still consider self-published books to be the redheaded stepchildren of "real" books. But that is changing rapidly, and it seems that very soon, that attitude may very well be obsolete.
Next... Mr. Smith asked a very important question. How long is my book, and to whom am I selling it? Who will be my audience? It turns out that the average book out there is 50,000-70,000 words. Just so you'll have some idea of size, my fiction book What Happens to Naughty Girls? was a little over 47,000. Late Bloomer? At last count, 110,032 words. That's one hell of a tome.
Mr. Smith said that if my book were all about the kink world and my experiences in it, it would be a slam-dunk -- the scene would eat it up. But because I've expanded it to be about my life and background as well as my kink, that's where the question comes in: Who is going to want to read all that? Are the people in the kink sphere, the ones who want to read all about my spanking adventures, going to give a rat's a#$ about the first 1/3 of the book, pre-Erica Scott? And for those who are interested in the human interest side of the story, is the kink stuff going to appeal?
Am I really all that interesting that people will want to delve into all those words? Good question. I have no idea.
Oh, my head.
For now, I'm rereading the first 1/3 with a ruthless eye, trying to determine what I can excise. So far, not much. Ultimately, I have to make a choice: Am I trying to tell my story in its entirety, or am I trying to sell a lot of books? I'd love to think I can do both, but I am firmly grounded in reality.
I am seeking local photographers with boudoir photo experience to create the image I have in my head for my book cover. I'm a member of Model Mayhem, a networking platform for models and photographers. A lot of people on there are willing to do projects for the exposure and to add to their portfolios, without pay -- I've been contacted by photographers who'd like to work with me that way. So I thought, well, why not put out a call for one myself? So I submitted what they call a "Casting Call," describing my photo project and asking if any photographers out there would be willing to help me out, and I'd credit them in my book.
Did I get blasted! Apparently, I committed a massive faux pas. Some people did write to me privately and say I did nothing wrong, that they'd be happy to work with me if they were local. But publicly? Yikes. I was told there is nothing in this that benefits the photographer, that photo credits in a book aren't worth crap, that there were no decent pictures in my portfolio (ouch) and anyone who wanted to take me on should be paid. One person said something along the lines of, "Why should I invest my time with you for nothing, when you don't even have enough confidence in your project to pay for a proper cover photo?"
(sigh) I withdrew the casting call. Damn, I wish Zelle were local! Back to the drawing board -- I am keeping my eyes and ears open for local pros who won't consider my request offensive. I certainly didn't mean to step on any toes. But I have read and been told by many that the cover is extremely important, and I want to do it right -- proper framing, lighting and focus, Photoshopping imperfections, etc.
What a whirlwind... but it's all so exciting. And I am not on a deadline; I can take my time. As Mr. Smith said, many people out there want to write a book, but damn few actually sit down and write one, seeing it through. So I'm quite proud of that.
Onward! Thanks for enduring my blathering. :-)
There are many decisions to make, many options to consider. Used to be that when you wrote a book, you got an agent (quite the process in itself, from what I've heard) and they submitted it to publishers. Now, with the burgeoning self-publishing industry, all that has changed.
In the past few days, I've had communications with three published authors: fetish erotica writer Annabel Joseph; John Smith, author of Kink And The City: An Englishman In New York; and of course, our own Devlin O'Neill. They were very kind to give me their time and they helped me reach one very important decision: I'm taking the self-publishing route. For many reasons, but here is perhaps the one that means the most to me: Preserving my book as I envisioned it, and not having some editor at a publishing house try to tweak it and mold it into something that will "sell better." Annabel described this as a "soul-deadening experience," and I can well imagine that it is. Granted, there is still a certain cachet in being traditionally published, and some people still consider self-published books to be the redheaded stepchildren of "real" books. But that is changing rapidly, and it seems that very soon, that attitude may very well be obsolete.
Next... Mr. Smith asked a very important question. How long is my book, and to whom am I selling it? Who will be my audience? It turns out that the average book out there is 50,000-70,000 words. Just so you'll have some idea of size, my fiction book What Happens to Naughty Girls? was a little over 47,000. Late Bloomer? At last count, 110,032 words. That's one hell of a tome.
Mr. Smith said that if my book were all about the kink world and my experiences in it, it would be a slam-dunk -- the scene would eat it up. But because I've expanded it to be about my life and background as well as my kink, that's where the question comes in: Who is going to want to read all that? Are the people in the kink sphere, the ones who want to read all about my spanking adventures, going to give a rat's a#$ about the first 1/3 of the book, pre-Erica Scott? And for those who are interested in the human interest side of the story, is the kink stuff going to appeal?
Am I really all that interesting that people will want to delve into all those words? Good question. I have no idea.
Oh, my head.
For now, I'm rereading the first 1/3 with a ruthless eye, trying to determine what I can excise. So far, not much. Ultimately, I have to make a choice: Am I trying to tell my story in its entirety, or am I trying to sell a lot of books? I'd love to think I can do both, but I am firmly grounded in reality.
I am seeking local photographers with boudoir photo experience to create the image I have in my head for my book cover. I'm a member of Model Mayhem, a networking platform for models and photographers. A lot of people on there are willing to do projects for the exposure and to add to their portfolios, without pay -- I've been contacted by photographers who'd like to work with me that way. So I thought, well, why not put out a call for one myself? So I submitted what they call a "Casting Call," describing my photo project and asking if any photographers out there would be willing to help me out, and I'd credit them in my book.
Did I get blasted! Apparently, I committed a massive faux pas. Some people did write to me privately and say I did nothing wrong, that they'd be happy to work with me if they were local. But publicly? Yikes. I was told there is nothing in this that benefits the photographer, that photo credits in a book aren't worth crap, that there were no decent pictures in my portfolio (ouch) and anyone who wanted to take me on should be paid. One person said something along the lines of, "Why should I invest my time with you for nothing, when you don't even have enough confidence in your project to pay for a proper cover photo?"
(sigh) I withdrew the casting call. Damn, I wish Zelle were local! Back to the drawing board -- I am keeping my eyes and ears open for local pros who won't consider my request offensive. I certainly didn't mean to step on any toes. But I have read and been told by many that the cover is extremely important, and I want to do it right -- proper framing, lighting and focus, Photoshopping imperfections, etc.
What a whirlwind... but it's all so exciting. And I am not on a deadline; I can take my time. As Mr. Smith said, many people out there want to write a book, but damn few actually sit down and write one, seeing it through. So I'm quite proud of that.
Onward! Thanks for enduring my blathering. :-)
Monday, April 11, 2011
Erica's Helpful Hints -- the Monday edition
Greetings, readers. Tonight I present some suggestions about what you might not want to do during a spanking (or maybe you might, as I did -- snicker), courtesy of New Guy and me and tonight's festivities.
When you're over his knee, it's probably not a good time to laugh at him when he calls you a smarty-pants. You might end up a smarty no-pants. (No, I can't take credit for that; he's the one who said it.)
And don't let him stick the camera in your face as your head is dangling toward the floor.
So attractive.
Even though you think your readers may be bored with the ottoman pictures week after week, be careful what you ask for. He may put you in a much more uncomfortable position.
Oh, and this probably isn't the best idea either...
When he finally lets you up from that godawful kneeling-in-chair position, it's probably not to your best interest to express your gratitude by blurting, "You suck!!"
You'll just end up in yet another position.
And when you're in this position and he's hovering over you, oh, it's soooo tempting... but resist the urge to lift your heel and verrry gently but strategically place it where it would send him through the ceiling if you were to kick. You may find yourself counting strap strokes and repeating after each one: "That was a really bad idea."
What else... oh! When he's futzing around with the camera, which means he's taking a break from smacking you, shut up about it! Don't heave a sigh and groan, "Oh, get on with it already, for God's sake."
And finally -- When he says, "Hey, I just got an idea!" don't answer, "Did it hurt?"
(Aaaaack! It's the dreaded mush-butt!)
This concludes tonight's Helpful Hints. You're welcome.
When you're over his knee, it's probably not a good time to laugh at him when he calls you a smarty-pants. You might end up a smarty no-pants. (No, I can't take credit for that; he's the one who said it.)
And don't let him stick the camera in your face as your head is dangling toward the floor.
So attractive.
Even though you think your readers may be bored with the ottoman pictures week after week, be careful what you ask for. He may put you in a much more uncomfortable position.
Oh, and this probably isn't the best idea either...
When he finally lets you up from that godawful kneeling-in-chair position, it's probably not to your best interest to express your gratitude by blurting, "You suck!!"
You'll just end up in yet another position.
And when you're in this position and he's hovering over you, oh, it's soooo tempting... but resist the urge to lift your heel and verrry gently but strategically place it where it would send him through the ceiling if you were to kick. You may find yourself counting strap strokes and repeating after each one: "That was a really bad idea."
What else... oh! When he's futzing around with the camera, which means he's taking a break from smacking you, shut up about it! Don't heave a sigh and groan, "Oh, get on with it already, for God's sake."
And finally -- When he says, "Hey, I just got an idea!" don't answer, "Did it hurt?"
(Aaaaack! It's the dreaded mush-butt!)
This concludes tonight's Helpful Hints. You're welcome.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Very Important Post -- I hope everyone reads
Yes, I know I already blogged today. I had planned to post this particular blog sometime after the weekend, after the Monday play blog. But you know what? I don't feel like waiting. I have an hour to kill before I leave for John's, and I want to put this out there. So here goes.
I spent all of 2010 working on a special, personal project; only a couple of people knew about it. I wrote a book. It is a biography/memoir, both of my experiences as Erica Scott, and of those before I allowed her to emerge.
I've made no secret, over all my years of blogging and writing on forums, that I struggled with a dysfunctional childhood, and with depression and eating disorders that plagued me for over 20 years. Most of you know I was put on medication at age 36, and that's when my life began to change. No, I take that back -- that's when my life began, period. In fact, my book is in two parts: Part 1 is called Existence, and Part 2 is called Living. Erica Scott doesn't even make an appearance until well into the second half.
You all have heard me describe myself as a square peg in a round world. I felt "otherness" very early on, for many reasons. Throw in an undeniable fascination with spanking and no outlet with which to explore it, and you have a whole lot of confusion, fear and self-loathing. But despite all that, I managed to break free and ultimately discover who I am -- and accept myself. To embrace my otherness, and fully rejoice in my kink.
I spent several months rereading 50 written journals, several more kept in Microsoft Word and years of forum posts and old blogs. From those, along with my unusually detailed memory, I compiled the story of Erica.
ANYWAY -- I met my goal of finishing the first draft by the end of 2010. I read through it a couple of times and edited it, and then I shelved it for a while, taking a break from it. Recently, I read it through one more time, did some more tweaking. Now I've decided that's enough of that, and I want to move forward. So.... now what?
I have been doing some research on getting published the old-fashioned way, and it appears to be a full-time job. There are a bazillion publishers and literary agents, and many ways to go. Writing proposals, sending out sample chapters, writing queries to agents... it's daunting. And I'm not kidding myself -- my book is a niche product. It is not going to appeal to the mainstream.
At first, I thought perhaps I should contact writers with traditionally published erotica/fetish books. I started by choosing three of them and emailed each one, asking if they'd be willing to share a bit about their publishing process, how they made it happen. One didn't reply at all; one wrote and said she'd get back to me, then never did. The third one sent me a very nice reply, but she made it clear that if I wanted any substantive guidance, I had to pay $200 an hour, two-hour minimum. So I gave up on that idea.
Just for the hell of it, I sent a proposal and some sample chapters to Virgin Books USA, because Virgin UK published Niki Flynn's memoir, Dances With Werewolves. But I am not expecting anything. Like I said, I know that finding a traditional publisher who'd take my book is like seeking the proverbial needle in a haystack. Another fetish author, Joan Kelly, published The Pleasure is All Mine a few years ago, about her experiences as a pro sub in the scene. I looked up her publisher as well... they're out of business.
So that leads me to self-publishing. You all know I went the self-publishing route with Lulu, back in 2007. But the industry has grown exponentially in the past four years, and now it's quite daunting as well. So many choices out there! When I published What Happens to Naughty Girls? on Lulu, I didn't pay a cent. I carefully formatted my manuscript according to their directions, they converted it to a PDF and then into a book, and that was that. I didn't have an ISBN, and aside from talking about it on my blog, I had no marketing or distribution. To this date, I've sold a whopping 190 copies in four years. I guess that's OK for a little book of fiction, but considering how much more personal this book is, how much more I put into it, I'd like to do a bit better than that.
All these companies (Lulu, Xlibris, Outskirts, iUniverse, AuthorHouse, CreateSpace, etc. etc. etc.) make it sound like they're the best for you, of course. They all have various packages you pay for if you want help with formatting, marketing and promotion, ISBNs and so on. But as I delve into each site individually, I keep seeing different pitfalls. Some won't convert a Word document into a PDF unless you pay for a higher-tier package. Others won't let you create your own cover (which I want to do, since I have a specific image in mind). Some, like Lulu, have separate packages for editing, marketing and distribution, while others lump everything into one. And yes, some of them still have a free self-publishing platform, but you're basically on your own with those. This time, I would like to avail myself of some help with marketing and distribution. But I don't want to pay a fortune for it, either.
Does anyone have any experience with or knowledge of Xlibris? I contacted a few of these companies for their free initial consultation. So far, Xlibris has been the most responsive, and borderline aggressive. They've contacted me by phone and email, and they are pushing their packages now because they have a promotional offer going on. Buy one of their packages and you automatically get upgraded to the next higher tier, but you pay the lower-tier price. The guy I spoke with was touting their Professional tier, where you get quite a lot, sounds like, but it's $1100!! He said I could have it for the Basic tier price, which is $650. I said that was still too high, and he then offered it to me for $520. I said I'd think about it. The offer is good until April 15. I'm a little uneasy about this hard sell, but perhaps they all do that to some degree. However, I don't want to rush into anything.
So, readers, I am opening the floor to you. Authors out there... what do you think? What are your experiences, and what do you feel is the best way to go? What companies have you worked with? Do you think I may have a viable product? Anyone know of publishers to contact who specialize in off-the-vanilla-path genres?
You know, I had a fantasy of getting all this done, keeping it secret until the end, then blogging "Surprise -- guess what? I've published my memoirs." Yeah, it was a nice fantasy, but it's not gonna happen. I need some help; there are just too damn many choices out there and I don't want to screw this up.
By the way... the name of my book is Late Bloomer. Because that's what I am, in every sense of the phrase.
Thank you in advance. :-)
I spent all of 2010 working on a special, personal project; only a couple of people knew about it. I wrote a book. It is a biography/memoir, both of my experiences as Erica Scott, and of those before I allowed her to emerge.
I've made no secret, over all my years of blogging and writing on forums, that I struggled with a dysfunctional childhood, and with depression and eating disorders that plagued me for over 20 years. Most of you know I was put on medication at age 36, and that's when my life began to change. No, I take that back -- that's when my life began, period. In fact, my book is in two parts: Part 1 is called Existence, and Part 2 is called Living. Erica Scott doesn't even make an appearance until well into the second half.
You all have heard me describe myself as a square peg in a round world. I felt "otherness" very early on, for many reasons. Throw in an undeniable fascination with spanking and no outlet with which to explore it, and you have a whole lot of confusion, fear and self-loathing. But despite all that, I managed to break free and ultimately discover who I am -- and accept myself. To embrace my otherness, and fully rejoice in my kink.
I spent several months rereading 50 written journals, several more kept in Microsoft Word and years of forum posts and old blogs. From those, along with my unusually detailed memory, I compiled the story of Erica.
ANYWAY -- I met my goal of finishing the first draft by the end of 2010. I read through it a couple of times and edited it, and then I shelved it for a while, taking a break from it. Recently, I read it through one more time, did some more tweaking. Now I've decided that's enough of that, and I want to move forward. So.... now what?
I have been doing some research on getting published the old-fashioned way, and it appears to be a full-time job. There are a bazillion publishers and literary agents, and many ways to go. Writing proposals, sending out sample chapters, writing queries to agents... it's daunting. And I'm not kidding myself -- my book is a niche product. It is not going to appeal to the mainstream.
At first, I thought perhaps I should contact writers with traditionally published erotica/fetish books. I started by choosing three of them and emailed each one, asking if they'd be willing to share a bit about their publishing process, how they made it happen. One didn't reply at all; one wrote and said she'd get back to me, then never did. The third one sent me a very nice reply, but she made it clear that if I wanted any substantive guidance, I had to pay $200 an hour, two-hour minimum. So I gave up on that idea.
Just for the hell of it, I sent a proposal and some sample chapters to Virgin Books USA, because Virgin UK published Niki Flynn's memoir, Dances With Werewolves. But I am not expecting anything. Like I said, I know that finding a traditional publisher who'd take my book is like seeking the proverbial needle in a haystack. Another fetish author, Joan Kelly, published The Pleasure is All Mine a few years ago, about her experiences as a pro sub in the scene. I looked up her publisher as well... they're out of business.
So that leads me to self-publishing. You all know I went the self-publishing route with Lulu, back in 2007. But the industry has grown exponentially in the past four years, and now it's quite daunting as well. So many choices out there! When I published What Happens to Naughty Girls? on Lulu, I didn't pay a cent. I carefully formatted my manuscript according to their directions, they converted it to a PDF and then into a book, and that was that. I didn't have an ISBN, and aside from talking about it on my blog, I had no marketing or distribution. To this date, I've sold a whopping 190 copies in four years. I guess that's OK for a little book of fiction, but considering how much more personal this book is, how much more I put into it, I'd like to do a bit better than that.
All these companies (Lulu, Xlibris, Outskirts, iUniverse, AuthorHouse, CreateSpace, etc. etc. etc.) make it sound like they're the best for you, of course. They all have various packages you pay for if you want help with formatting, marketing and promotion, ISBNs and so on. But as I delve into each site individually, I keep seeing different pitfalls. Some won't convert a Word document into a PDF unless you pay for a higher-tier package. Others won't let you create your own cover (which I want to do, since I have a specific image in mind). Some, like Lulu, have separate packages for editing, marketing and distribution, while others lump everything into one. And yes, some of them still have a free self-publishing platform, but you're basically on your own with those. This time, I would like to avail myself of some help with marketing and distribution. But I don't want to pay a fortune for it, either.
Does anyone have any experience with or knowledge of Xlibris? I contacted a few of these companies for their free initial consultation. So far, Xlibris has been the most responsive, and borderline aggressive. They've contacted me by phone and email, and they are pushing their packages now because they have a promotional offer going on. Buy one of their packages and you automatically get upgraded to the next higher tier, but you pay the lower-tier price. The guy I spoke with was touting their Professional tier, where you get quite a lot, sounds like, but it's $1100!! He said I could have it for the Basic tier price, which is $650. I said that was still too high, and he then offered it to me for $520. I said I'd think about it. The offer is good until April 15. I'm a little uneasy about this hard sell, but perhaps they all do that to some degree. However, I don't want to rush into anything.
So, readers, I am opening the floor to you. Authors out there... what do you think? What are your experiences, and what do you feel is the best way to go? What companies have you worked with? Do you think I may have a viable product? Anyone know of publishers to contact who specialize in off-the-vanilla-path genres?
You know, I had a fantasy of getting all this done, keeping it secret until the end, then blogging "Surprise -- guess what? I've published my memoirs." Yeah, it was a nice fantasy, but it's not gonna happen. I need some help; there are just too damn many choices out there and I don't want to screw this up.
By the way... the name of my book is Late Bloomer. Because that's what I am, in every sense of the phrase.
Thank you in advance. :-)
Correspondence Hall of Shame, 4/8
It's Spring, and the idiots as well as the flowers are popping their heads up once again. Enjoy.
Can you like animalsex ???
I dunno, can I? If you're talking about f***ing like bunnies, then yes. If you're talking about actually f***ing the bunnies, then go away.
“Nipple play”...I like a woman who loves’s it, and wants it. Would love to explore your nipples and figure out what makes you go crazy.
Uh... where in any of my spanking ads were you able to infer that I loves's nipple play? I don't; I hates's it.
I will spank you into submissionl. You are hot your Master knows that. I just would like to become worthy of being in your circle. Very respectful single clean shaved 8" available anytime for you.
You want to be worthy? You can start by not announcing the length of your shlong to a perfect stranger.
And here's my favorite, clearly written by a one-handed typist:
I want to take you from behind, that’s my favorite especially I want to dominate you from behind, with my large hands wrap around your throat. The variety of what can be done from behind is so great; it can open up new pleasure centers and different angles of penetration. I like it all, standing up while our hips grind together, fully embraced with my hands cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples. I want to grab your ass checks sticking it straight in the air so I can penetrate you from a steep angle like a jackhammer, flexing my knees and thighs every time I thrust all the way deep into you’re wetness. I than want you just lying down, on your stomach, legs spread wide and continue to enter slowly and deeply from behind then wrap my warm (hot) body around yours, biting and kissing the back of your neck, whispering dirty thoughts into your ear again and again, tightly embracing your arms so our bodies are one, watching your face change between the smile and tensions of ultimate pleasure every time I slide in and out of you.
There were several more paragraphs of this drivel, but I chose to spare you. This gives you the general idea.
A few random thoughts:
1. My ass doesn't have checks. I prefer polka dots.
2. If I wanted to have sex with a jackhammer, I'd buy one at Home Depot.
3. Are you warm, or are you hot? Make up your damn mind.
4. If I'm lying facedown on the bed, how can you watch my face change?
5. You just want our bodies to be one so you can share my brain, as yours (or should I say you'res) is clearly deficient.
Thanks to everyone who participated in my food rant blog. It always tickles me to see the amount of responses I get on those. And finally, thank you to A Voice In The Corner for choosing mine as Blog of the Week. :-)
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Can you like animalsex ???
I dunno, can I? If you're talking about f***ing like bunnies, then yes. If you're talking about actually f***ing the bunnies, then go away.
“Nipple play”...I like a woman who loves’s it, and wants it. Would love to explore your nipples and figure out what makes you go crazy.
Uh... where in any of my spanking ads were you able to infer that I loves's nipple play? I don't; I hates's it.
I will spank you into submissionl. You are hot your Master knows that. I just would like to become worthy of being in your circle. Very respectful single clean shaved 8" available anytime for you.
You want to be worthy? You can start by not announcing the length of your shlong to a perfect stranger.
And here's my favorite, clearly written by a one-handed typist:
I want to take you from behind, that’s my favorite especially I want to dominate you from behind, with my large hands wrap around your throat. The variety of what can be done from behind is so great; it can open up new pleasure centers and different angles of penetration. I like it all, standing up while our hips grind together, fully embraced with my hands cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples. I want to grab your ass checks sticking it straight in the air so I can penetrate you from a steep angle like a jackhammer, flexing my knees and thighs every time I thrust all the way deep into you’re wetness. I than want you just lying down, on your stomach, legs spread wide and continue to enter slowly and deeply from behind then wrap my warm (hot) body around yours, biting and kissing the back of your neck, whispering dirty thoughts into your ear again and again, tightly embracing your arms so our bodies are one, watching your face change between the smile and tensions of ultimate pleasure every time I slide in and out of you.
There were several more paragraphs of this drivel, but I chose to spare you. This gives you the general idea.
A few random thoughts:
1. My ass doesn't have checks. I prefer polka dots.
2. If I wanted to have sex with a jackhammer, I'd buy one at Home Depot.
3. Are you warm, or are you hot? Make up your damn mind.
4. If I'm lying facedown on the bed, how can you watch my face change?
5. You just want our bodies to be one so you can share my brain, as yours (or should I say you'res) is clearly deficient.
Thanks to everyone who participated in my food rant blog. It always tickles me to see the amount of responses I get on those. And finally, thank you to A Voice In The Corner for choosing mine as Blog of the Week. :-)
Have a great weekend, y'all.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
OT: Yet another rant about disgusting food
So, what do I like to bitch about, people? (And don't say everything.) Yes! Gross food! In the past I've ranted about the KFC Double Down sandwich (bacon, cheese and sauce between two fried chicken breasts), IHOP's Pancake Stackers (two pancakes layered with cheesecake filling and topped with fruit and whipped cream), and Friendly's Grilled Cheese Burgermelt (a grilled cheese sandwich, topped with a burger and all the fixings, and then another grilled cheese sandwich on top of that). I've also critiqued marshmallow peeps, and made sure everyone knows that I think cottage cheese is one of the most revolting substances on Earth.
What's on today's Barf-O-Rama menu? Denny's new Maple Bacon Sundae.
Yes, it's exactly what you think it is. Vanilla ice cream, layered with maple syrup and crumbled, cooked bacon. It's one of Denny's limited-time-only (thank God!!) "Baconalia" selections. Other items include Bacon Meatloaf and a BBBLT (a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich with triple bacon).
OK, I hear you out there -- Oh, come on, Erica. You just don't like bacon. That's not it. Granted, it's one of the things I don't eat anymore, but I used to. And I can see the appeal of it with eggs at breakfast, or in a sandwich, or crumbled into salads and baked potatoes. But in dessert????? NO!
What the hell is up with this country's love affair with bacon, anyway? It's turning up everywhere! I have actually heard of chocolate-covered bacon, the thought of which makes me want to hurl. And my beloved Danny has actually ordered a Bacon Martini at a dive bar near Vegas. Today on FetLife, someone posted a link to a Bacon Chocolate-Chip cookie recipe. Stop the madness!!
OK, I get it, people love bacon. But just because a food is good, does that mean it belongs everywhere and combined with everything? I adore chocolate, as many people do. But come on. There are limits. Would you put hot fudge sauce on your prime rib? Sprinkle your mac-'n-cheese casserole with chocolate chips instead of bread crumbs? (OK, maybe some people would, but I'd rather not know them. They're the same people who would hear Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and say it needs more cowbell.)
Apparently, journalist Robin Wheeler agrees with me; see her amusing commentary on the bacon sundae here.
And while I'm in rant mode, what's up with this trendy BS of combining sweet with spicy/savory flavors? I do not want freaking seasalt on my caramel, thank you very much. And I sure as @#$% don't want cayenne pepper in my chocolate bars. Stop with this designer food nonsense. Putting pepper in chocolate is like mating a dog with a cat. Oh, and stop putting flowers in my chocolate too, while you're at it. I like to smell the roses, not ingest them.
OK, I'm getting off-track here. Just say NO to bacon on ice cream, I beg of you. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a salad.
What's on today's Barf-O-Rama menu? Denny's new Maple Bacon Sundae.
Yes, it's exactly what you think it is. Vanilla ice cream, layered with maple syrup and crumbled, cooked bacon. It's one of Denny's limited-time-only (thank God!!) "Baconalia" selections. Other items include Bacon Meatloaf and a BBBLT (a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich with triple bacon).
OK, I hear you out there -- Oh, come on, Erica. You just don't like bacon. That's not it. Granted, it's one of the things I don't eat anymore, but I used to. And I can see the appeal of it with eggs at breakfast, or in a sandwich, or crumbled into salads and baked potatoes. But in dessert????? NO!
What the hell is up with this country's love affair with bacon, anyway? It's turning up everywhere! I have actually heard of chocolate-covered bacon, the thought of which makes me want to hurl. And my beloved Danny has actually ordered a Bacon Martini at a dive bar near Vegas. Today on FetLife, someone posted a link to a Bacon Chocolate-Chip cookie recipe. Stop the madness!!
OK, I get it, people love bacon. But just because a food is good, does that mean it belongs everywhere and combined with everything? I adore chocolate, as many people do. But come on. There are limits. Would you put hot fudge sauce on your prime rib? Sprinkle your mac-'n-cheese casserole with chocolate chips instead of bread crumbs? (OK, maybe some people would, but I'd rather not know them. They're the same people who would hear Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and say it needs more cowbell.)
Apparently, journalist Robin Wheeler agrees with me; see her amusing commentary on the bacon sundae here.
And while I'm in rant mode, what's up with this trendy BS of combining sweet with spicy/savory flavors? I do not want freaking seasalt on my caramel, thank you very much. And I sure as @#$% don't want cayenne pepper in my chocolate bars. Stop with this designer food nonsense. Putting pepper in chocolate is like mating a dog with a cat. Oh, and stop putting flowers in my chocolate too, while you're at it. I like to smell the roses, not ingest them.
OK, I'm getting off-track here. Just say NO to bacon on ice cream, I beg of you. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a salad.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Happy me :-)
For some, SSC means Safe, Sane and Consensual. For me, SSC describes my state of being on Monday nights -- Smiling, Squirming and Content. :-)
I was on the phone with John before New Guy came over. He ended our call with, "Tell [new guy] that I said hi, and tell him that I want him to hit you hard and repeatedly." Gee, thanks, honey.
After last week's intensity, tonight called for fun and lightheartedness, and that's exactly what we had. New Guy arrived, greeting me with his usual warm hug and surprising me with a little present, a potted tulip plant. I was in a playful mood and I giggled well into the spanking, which he didn't seem to mind in the least.
Oh, but I'm afraid I have to report some bad news. All those compliments y'all left him in the comments seem to have gone to his head. Yes, I detected a bit of Ego this evening. For example, I forget what I was referring to, but I said at one point, "You're awfully sure of yourself!"
To which he teased, "Of course I am. All great leaders need to be."
Oh brother! :-Þ
Just so we're clear -- playful and lighthearted did NOT mean I got a light spanking. Will you look at all his @#$%ing toys??
Whereas last week had been a straightforward strapping/paddling, this week he switched things up, using a lot of different implements (strap, his belt, quirt, flogger, small wooden paddle), alternating with his hand, and combining sensual strokes with fiercely hard ones. I had no idea what was coming and when, and it put me into subspace fairly quickly. I don't think I uttered a coherent word during the second half of our scene... just sounds. He'd strike with his right hand, and caress or lightly run his nails over my skin with the other hand. It was lovely.
No tears this time, of course. I was too blissed out.
Monday nights go by so quickly. But I know there's always another one in a week.
Lookit my tulips!
Aren't they a yummy spring color? I like how one of them is higher above all the rest. Kinda like New Guy himself. ♥
Hey! I have 99 followers -- who's going to make it an even 100? :-)
I was on the phone with John before New Guy came over. He ended our call with, "Tell [new guy] that I said hi, and tell him that I want him to hit you hard and repeatedly." Gee, thanks, honey.
After last week's intensity, tonight called for fun and lightheartedness, and that's exactly what we had. New Guy arrived, greeting me with his usual warm hug and surprising me with a little present, a potted tulip plant. I was in a playful mood and I giggled well into the spanking, which he didn't seem to mind in the least.
Oh, but I'm afraid I have to report some bad news. All those compliments y'all left him in the comments seem to have gone to his head. Yes, I detected a bit of Ego this evening. For example, I forget what I was referring to, but I said at one point, "You're awfully sure of yourself!"
To which he teased, "Of course I am. All great leaders need to be."
Oh brother! :-Þ
Just so we're clear -- playful and lighthearted did NOT mean I got a light spanking. Will you look at all his @#$%ing toys??
Whereas last week had been a straightforward strapping/paddling, this week he switched things up, using a lot of different implements (strap, his belt, quirt, flogger, small wooden paddle), alternating with his hand, and combining sensual strokes with fiercely hard ones. I had no idea what was coming and when, and it put me into subspace fairly quickly. I don't think I uttered a coherent word during the second half of our scene... just sounds. He'd strike with his right hand, and caress or lightly run his nails over my skin with the other hand. It was lovely.
No tears this time, of course. I was too blissed out.
Monday nights go by so quickly. But I know there's always another one in a week.
Lookit my tulips!
Aren't they a yummy spring color? I like how one of them is higher above all the rest. Kinda like New Guy himself. ♥
Hey! I have 99 followers -- who's going to make it an even 100? :-)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Thank you
Hope everyone had a nice weekend! I wanted to say thanks for all the wonderful comments, on this blog and privately, that I've received since I put up the clips last week. It's been extremely gratifying for both of us to read them.
I'm sure they weren't everyone's cup of tea. There may be people who aren't commenting because they found them too intense or personal. And on the flip side, I'll bet there are some (you know, the ones who really, really like severity) who are thinking, "Jeeezus, what was she bawling about? That was nothing." Ah well... can't please everyone. But I'm happy that so many people appreciated what we did.
New Guy put the video up in its entirety on his FetLife page (it turned out to be 17 minutes total). He got several comments over the weekend, all of them positive except for one. One guy wrote the following:
Well Lady, I feel sorry for you if you can put up with crap like that. He made you cry and that tells me you really did not enjoy that one bit.
Oh, give me a break. Talk about completely missing the point!
I wanted to see who our detractor was, so I checked out his profile. Turns out he's 72 years old, a retired truck driver, and his profile picture is him naked except for a ball cap that looks like the American flag and a multi-colored thong.
Pass me the brain bleach. :-Þ
Part of me found his cluelessness amusing and another part wanted to tear him a new one. I dialed it back, of course, since I do endeavor to be somewhat polite, even when I'm being bitchy. But I couldn't resist replying with this:
Well, Man, I guarantee you have no reason to feel sorry for me. My tears were born of trust, and I was in the best of hands. Now please do us all a favor and go put some clothes on.
Snarky? Yup. Hey, I had a humbling session... I didn't have a personality overhaul. :-D
I showed the video to John yesterday. He was quite impressed -- a couple of times, he murmured, "Damn, he's good!" When NG apologized for the high stroke, John laughed a little and then said, "Wow, what a great top." I thought I'd be kind of uncomfortable watching it with him, but I wasn't. He said more than once that NG should do videos; the professional and paying kind, not just the little ones we do. I wholeheartedly agree, but I respect his reservations in that area. I'm just happy he wants to make them with me. :-)
Anyway... tomorrow is Monday once again. Anyone been following that insipid song "Friday" that went viral on YouTube? If you don't want to bother watching the video (and I don't blame you), it's a 'tween girl named Rebecca Black singing about the joys of Friday and looking forward to the weekend. It's been parodied and ridiculed all over the place.
I feel my own parody coming on... "Monday, Monday, gotta get spanked on Monday..." Or not. I may get punished again if I do it. (snicker)
Stay tuned for tomorrow night's festivities.
I'm sure they weren't everyone's cup of tea. There may be people who aren't commenting because they found them too intense or personal. And on the flip side, I'll bet there are some (you know, the ones who really, really like severity) who are thinking, "Jeeezus, what was she bawling about? That was nothing." Ah well... can't please everyone. But I'm happy that so many people appreciated what we did.
New Guy put the video up in its entirety on his FetLife page (it turned out to be 17 minutes total). He got several comments over the weekend, all of them positive except for one. One guy wrote the following:
Well Lady, I feel sorry for you if you can put up with crap like that. He made you cry and that tells me you really did not enjoy that one bit.
Oh, give me a break. Talk about completely missing the point!
I wanted to see who our detractor was, so I checked out his profile. Turns out he's 72 years old, a retired truck driver, and his profile picture is him naked except for a ball cap that looks like the American flag and a multi-colored thong.
Pass me the brain bleach. :-Þ
Part of me found his cluelessness amusing and another part wanted to tear him a new one. I dialed it back, of course, since I do endeavor to be somewhat polite, even when I'm being bitchy. But I couldn't resist replying with this:
Well, Man, I guarantee you have no reason to feel sorry for me. My tears were born of trust, and I was in the best of hands. Now please do us all a favor and go put some clothes on.
Snarky? Yup. Hey, I had a humbling session... I didn't have a personality overhaul. :-D
I showed the video to John yesterday. He was quite impressed -- a couple of times, he murmured, "Damn, he's good!" When NG apologized for the high stroke, John laughed a little and then said, "Wow, what a great top." I thought I'd be kind of uncomfortable watching it with him, but I wasn't. He said more than once that NG should do videos; the professional and paying kind, not just the little ones we do. I wholeheartedly agree, but I respect his reservations in that area. I'm just happy he wants to make them with me. :-)
Anyway... tomorrow is Monday once again. Anyone been following that insipid song "Friday" that went viral on YouTube? If you don't want to bother watching the video (and I don't blame you), it's a 'tween girl named Rebecca Black singing about the joys of Friday and looking forward to the weekend. It's been parodied and ridiculed all over the place.
I feel my own parody coming on... "Monday, Monday, gotta get spanked on Monday..." Or not. I may get punished again if I do it. (snicker)
Stay tuned for tomorrow night's festivities.
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