Is spanking an "addiction"?

Today's topic/question comes from a reader's private message to me. It used to be that when one talked about addiction, they were referring to the chemical type -- alcohol, narcotics, tobacco, etc. But these days, it seems that any time someone really likes something or perhaps indulges in it more than the average person, it's slapped with the addiction label. People are addicted to sex, to shopping, to texting, to navel lint gathering. Is the term overused, or is there some truth to it?

Granted, exaggerating addiction is nothing new. This weekend, John and I watched the cheeseball cult classic "Reefer Madness," the anti-marijuana "message" movie from 1936 (not to be confused with "Reefer Madness: The Musical," which is fairly recent and intentionally funny). Talk about melodrama! Warning! One puff of this "demon weed" and you're on the road to juvenile delinquency, depravity and criminal insanity! You'll laugh maniacally, have indiscriminate sex and run over old men with your car! Tell your children -- this unspeakable scourge could affect your son, or your daughter. Or yours! Or YOURS!

(Double-click on the picture and you can read all those hilarious blurbs a little more easily.)

Still, overblown as this is, at least it's referring to substance abuse, a physiological addiction. So what about these so-called addictions that have nothing to do with substances? Are there different types of addictions -- emotional, psychological? When does something go from being something you need for a happier life, something you enjoy, to an addiction? What's next -- claiming we're addicted to oxygen because we need to breathe?

I am currently missing New Guy very much. But along with missing him personally, is it the spanking, or something else? Is it touch? No... anyone who has seen John and me together knows that we are as touchy-feely as a couple of high-school kids. Is it the attention? Probably, since I crave that as well. The endorphin high, the stress release? Yup, there's something to that. The blissful relaxed feeling afterward? Well, who wouldn't want that?

Granted, if I go spankless, I don't suffer from hallucinations, nausea and delirium tremens. But I get damn cranky.

Still... addiction? Or just wanting something because it makes me feel good?

It seems to me that something, anything, is an addiction only when the need/urge for it interferes with one's functioning or causes reckless behavior. Picking up strangers in a bar and having unprotected sex, for example, due to a sexual addiction. Endangering others by driving drunk. Screwing up on the job because you can't put your iPhone down for two seconds. But where does spanking come into this? Thinking about it too much? Spending too much time online reading about it? Feeling like if you can't get a spanking, you have to self-spank to release the tension?

OK, some would say I've engaged in reckless behavior by having men I really don't know all that well coming to my apartment. I've never set up a "safe call," even though many think that is essential. However, I don't think those actions are born of being out of control; I have gut-level instincts and I follow them. It's not like I've been online with a stranger and he says, "Can I come over now?" and I say yes and give him my address because I just HAVE to be spanked by him right this minute and if it doesn't happen I'll lose my mind.

For those who engage in spanking or other types of BDSM play regularly, how do you feel when life interferes with your fun and you have to go without it for whatever reason? Does it affect your mood? Do you indeed feel a sort of withdrawal?

What do you think of the loose interpretations of "addiction"?

I want, I want, I want...

... yes, it's true. I'm a wanton woman. (rimshot)

Happy Friday, happy Chross Day. Congratulations to all who made the list. I'm so happy that, once again, my blog featuring Spanking Court was Chrossed. I am trying to shoot lots and lots of attention their way and this is a huge help. So thank you, kind sir. :-)

So what do I want? I dunno. I'm restless. I really want it to be next weekend. I know, I know -- don't wish your life away, Erica. But right now, I feel like I'm in a sort of stuck-in-limbo mode, waiting for various things. A long weekend beckons, but John and I have no plans; the downside of the two of us being loners and antisocialites. This will be a weekend of outings, barbecues and parties (oh gawd, John's noisy next-door neighbor will probably have one... ugh), but we'll just hang out and do our usual.

You know, most of the time I'm very happy with that -- crowds and noise and driving with the masses in traffic and running here and there don't appeal to me and I love our solitude. Still, every now and then, I want to break out of that. Can't explain why. But I know I can't have it both ways, so I get over it.

Monday is Memorial Day, and the 15th anniversary of my first adult spanking, the one that started it all. Of course, I wish New Guy were here, so I could mark (har!) the occasion with a spectacular celebratory spanking. But he isn't and that's that. I will have to acknowledge the day on my own, rejoice in some fond memories and look forward to making new ones.

So what is everyone doing this weekend? Tell me all about your fun plans and I will live vicariously through you.

Hmmmm... as long as I'm in this wantin'/wanton mode, here's a random want list, in no particular order.

I want to win the lottery, so we can go to ALL the spanking parties all over the country. Oh, and so I can pay bills and stuff.

I want to find an at-home proofreading/copyediting job with a steady stream of work and not just fits and starts when people are overloaded.

I want the tornadoes and earthquakes and so forth to stop wreaking so much havoc. Way too damn much tragedy going on for too damn many people.

I want Judd Apatow to retire. His movies are disgusting. When did bodily functions gone revoltingly awry and people behaving like animals become the benchmark for what's considered funny?

I want to live in a world where no one has ever heard of Jersey Shore, the Kardashians or Kate Gosselin.

I want Harold Camping to STFU already. Rapture, my butt.

I want to be able to look down at my arms and not cringe. When the hell did my skin morph into crepe paper?

I want John to have a healthy heart, without the inconvenience of carving his chest open to insert porcine parts.

I want them to invent an app that mutes one's surroundings. Screaming babies on a plane, neighbor's loud TV, street construction outside your window? Hey, there's an app for that! I would have used it last night in my exercise class, on the two women behind me who talked through the entire thing.

I want too much. I need to stop that.

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Fun stuff from Spanking Court

Blogger problems be damned. I feel like posting these. Cali sent them to me yesterday and I can't wait to share them. And I can't wait until a week from Saturday!

Here I am in court -- I wore my glasses so I'd look more earnest and serious. Did I succeed?

This is Spanking Court's "intrepid reporter" Dave Llewelyn interviewing me. What a character! He had this rapid-fire delivery of questions, and no matter what you replied, he'd twist it somehow. Some of us couldn't stay in the room when he was doing these interviews, because we'd crack up. It was quite a challenge keeping up with him, but I think I managed OK.

The punishment room. I'm handing my pants to beautiful bailiff Dana. And will you look at that knee-melting glare The Villain is shooting at me?

I guess I must have just said something sarcastic. Fancy that.

My mug shot. Naturally, I'm smirking. Would you expect anything else?

Is it June yet? I am so over May.

@#$%ing stupid Blogger!

There is some sort of issue with Blogger the past couple of days, random and frustrating because it affects some but not others. Some sort of SNAFU with sign-in and commenting. I was unable to comment to my own blog, and through trial and error, the only way I was able to get around that was to change my Internet settings to "Accept all cookies." I don't know why that worked, but it did. Nevertheless, things still don't work right and Blogger's "Help" area is riddled with protests.

No sign of a fix yet, though. And I didn't have a single comment yesterday, even though I posted a new blog. If any of you tried to comment and couldn't, could you drop me a message and let me know?

Anyway... I have new pictures from Spanking Court, but I think I'll wait until this damn thing is fixed. Just another week-and-a-half and I go back to court -- I can't wait! :-)

"Kink and the City"

You may remember a couple of weeks ago when I was seeking publishing advice, I had a conversation with John Smith, author of Kink and the City: An Englishman in New York. He was generous with his time and counsel, and in return, I heartily agreed to read his book and review it here.

"Kink" is the true story of John's journey in the BDSM/spanking scene, beginning as it did for most of us with the vague stirrings and fascinations with all things spanking. At sixteen years old, he rented a room from a 30-something woman who turned out to be a professional dominatrix, and his education was begun. After years of playing in the London scene, he relocated to Manhattan, NY, and sought to find kindred spirits there. The book is a series of his adventures -- the good, the bad and the absurd.

I love this man's humor (or should I say humour?). He is dry and sarcastic, given to hyperbole, a bit sharp-tongued (reminds me of someone...). I found myself giggling frequently as I read about the "types" and situations we've all known.

"The result of this [alcohol] consumption was a set of reproductive equipment which was about as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike."

"[He was] A louche dullard adorned with more trinkets than an octogenarian's mantelpiece."

"I was to discover that she was to polite party talk what PeeWee Herman is to competitive bodybuilding."

(Listing what pro dommes have to put up with): "No shows, bad hygiene (and of course bad spelling), unrealistic requests, fawning, stalking, unwanted attention, last minute cancellations, whining, obsessives, wankers, sundry dickheads and of course people like me...and that's just a shortened list."

So we follow John through his various encounters, both from the top and bottom perspective, with lively descriptions (all names have been changed). His story is not one of drama and trauma, but of blunt honesty, lots of play (sometimes edgy) and the sheer excitement of discovering everything the scene has to offer.

If you'd like to read a scene book that will make you snicker, nod your head in recognition and even gasp occasionally, Kink and the City is for you.

In other news -- I received email from New Guy yesterday. Among other things, he wrote: "I saw your blog. You had better improve your attitude or you'll be in big trouble when I get back!"

Rut-roh. :-)

Monday morning

Up and dressed in my workout clothes. Just ate a light but healthy breakfast, jump-started my day with a large mug of fully leaded coffee. My iPod is charged, I've replied to the morning emails that required attention, and I'm ready to go.

Just one problem. All I want to do is crawl back into bed.

Goddammit! I refuse to start my week this way. Get. Up. One foot in front of the other. Get in the car and drive.

But I don't feel like it.

Tough. Do it anyway. You'll feel better.

But...

NOW.

(grumble) All right, all right.

For the next three weeks, I @#$%ing hate Mondays as much as everyone else.

Odds and ends

How was everyone's weekend? Looks like we're all still here. :-D

Couple of things on the Interwebs worth mentioning. First, Bonnie Jo called my attention to this: Spanking Court posted a clip on Spanking Tube, called "Behind the Scenes at Spanking Court" It's quick, just 2:44, and it's a fun little montage of bits from the shoots. Sets, makeup, people making faces and being silly. About halfway into it, there's Yours Truly, sprawled on the couch in my orange scrubs, looking dazed and goofy and grinning like an idiot after The Villain's dose of therapy. And Himself is perched on the sofa arm, looking mighty proud of his accomplishment. :-) Check it out!

Also, Lea (of Lea's Corner) recently bought my book of M/F fiction and was kind enough to give it a nice little review here. Thank you, Lea. :-)  I was rereading a few of those stories recently, and I admit that some seem kind of cornball to me now, especially the ones I wrote 10-12 years or so ago. So it's nice to hear people still enjoy them.

So yesterday, John and I shopped all day, ending the afternoon with a trip to Old Town Pasadena so we could buy his coworker a gift certificate from Restoration Hardware (she just bought her first house). We parked several blocks away and plowed through the busy sidewalks with people milling all around us. I had no clue anything was off with John, but when we were done at RH and walking to a nearby restaurant, he confessed that he could feel a migraine coming on. Ugh.

Fortunately, if he gets a massive dose of caffeine into him on time, he's able to ward it off. So we got to the restaurant and sat immediately, and when the server asked us if we wanted drinks, John asked him to please bring a cup of coffee right away. And he did! I was worried, because John had that familiar glassy-eyed look and I could see his face was perspiring, but after he drank the first two cups of coffee, he started to settle back down. By the third cup, he said he was fine and we enjoyed a nice dinner.

After dinner, we were walking back to the car and on the way we passed a park where a concert was playing. We couldn't see the band from the sidewalk, but could hear the music: very loud grunge rock. "Let's go check it out," he said. "Why?" I protested. "You can hear it from here. You don't want to go closer, do you? It might kick your migraine back in." But he insisted he was fine, let's go look.

So we trudged through the grass and onto the path, finally getting to the stage and taking a peek. Up close, it was extremely loud and obnoxious, and we could see that it was four guys, dressed in solid black, all gyrating and screaming and flipping around mass quantities of long hair. They didn't sing particularly well, either.

"This sucks!" John said, taking my hand and leading me away. "You are in so much trouble!"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaa??" I screeched, stumbling along after him. "It was your idea! You wanted to go closer!"

We went down the grassy hill, and as the racket got farther away, he said, "No, it's all your fault, and you are so spanked!" We started to walk past a small bench in the grass and he made an abrupt turn and grabbed my arm. Next thing I knew, he sat on the bench and I went sprawling across his lap. My purse upended and keys, glasses, mints and other paraphernalia scattered.

He just gave me a few whacks and then let me back up... I have no idea if anyone saw or not. I was mortified and excited at the same time. He'd given me slaps on the butt in public before, but never flipped me OTK. And the big idiot gloated and crowed about it all the way home. "You ARE going to blog about this, aren't you?" Yes, dear.

Hey, tomorrow's Monday. It's... oh. Wait. Never mind. :-(

I confess here to a little frustration; when I sent Danny my book a couple of weeks ago, he was quite gung-ho at first, reading the first 70 pages and giving me lots of feedback and good suggestions (more details and shorter paragraphs, for a couple). But then he stopped, and I'm in a holding pattern until he gets back to it. Danny? Sweetheart? Are you reading this? I realize you have a life, but you did volunteer to do this, so could ya please please please? :-)  It would be so nice to have a distraction from missing New Guy, and what better than getting my book edits and finally getting this thing done already. So pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?

OK, I'm off to catch up with FetCrack. Later, kids.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, the Pre-Rapture Edition

According to some self-proclaimed experts, the world as we know it is ending tomorrow. Might as well spend my last day doing things I'm good at -- making my friends laugh and snarking at idiots.

Hi , you have a beautifull ass , I will love to spank you !

Uh... no. You won't.

I would enjoy indulging in your ass, luv.

Why do I get the feeling that my butt is a pint of Ben & Jerry's?

I have admit seeing you and your lovely red bare bottom being spanked caused a little rise :)

Emphasis on "little," I'm sure. (snicker) Really? You just had [to] admit this? Your last act on this earth before the Rapture? Sheesh. Looks like you didn't have much of a life to begin with.

i wanna give you the best panties for an older woman award :]

Oh, you've got to be @#$%ing kidding me. Well, thank you. I'm honored. It was quite a coup, finding those tanga Depends.

And finally... what do I love, kids? Long, rambling propositions from men who clearly didn't bother reading my profile. OK, I'll cut this guy a little slack, since English isn't his first language (he's from Switzerland). But still...

hello my dear

i saw your profile and i loved it. the picture is wonderful. but that is not what i am looking for. the girl, woman, lover on my side has to be very pretty inside. that is the only thing that is really important, and what will be very important to me/us.

i am not looking for a sexpartner only, but it is really importantp. i have been inside a RS without sex for 3 years and that almost killed me - REALLY!

i am very open for the most of it but if you are not open enough to live our sexual fantasies, that would be very bad. you must be communicativ, tender,lovely, understanding, inteligent, faithful, ... submissive and obdient.

let's meet and let's see what happends. i am a good man/dom and it could be your and my dream to go forward and make fantasies come true.

if you are really interested, than please write me to with your contact adress - best would be a mess anger-adress.

you should know, that i am very sexual and have a good sexdrive when i am attracted to my sub and have found my real sub, but not just "fuck". qualitiy is more important then quantity. but i also love to pleasure my partner like she does it to me. with feelings it is more beautyful that just without.

i love my partner to be more sub, sluty, devoted and submissive. i am looking for my all-in-one-girl-sub. the bdsm-part is a part of my life - not my whole life - but very important.

you should love to dress yourself sexy on my side.

best thing would be, when you have a fable for skirts, sexy shirts/blouse, black(pvc-latex), leather, high heels or boots. i really will admire her for that and will take good care, protect and support her.

be sure, i don't care any distance, because when we got the connection, we will see where the way goes and leads us.

i am single and i am open to relocate you or myself when it is necessary, when i have found the right sub. i don't care where my sub is form and how long it needs to meet here as long as we are in contact. but the domination is a part of me - and your devotion is a gift to me, that i will respect and admire.

i am not a player or a time waster - i met to many on this site. i had a sub, but she was busy all the time and the business was more important - i had to accept that.

i pormise, when you answer you won't be disappointed.

kiss

(groan) He mentions "sub" or "submissive" eight times. My ad's headline reads: "NOT a submissive, just a bottom." What does that tell you?

Whaddaya mean, you're not a time waster? You've already wasted several precious minutes of my life that I'll never get back.

If you're a dom, why do you lower-case your I's? Do Swiss keyboards not have a shift key?

And finally -- if you're willing to relocate me, would you relocate my boyfriend too? Thanks much. :-)

In other news, the controversial topic on FetLife about spanking models doing pay sessions at parties rages on, over 200 responses at this time. Church Lady came back and posted more of her endless blather; I lost my temper and told her to put a sock in it. People messaged me privately and cheered. But it didn't stop her; she posted even more judgmental crap. I give up. Yup, it's true, folks. All of us in the video industry are soul-less whores and we will corrupt your children and poison your pets. We're all about money and we're going to hell in a shopping basket.

But we're sure as hell having fun. :-Þ

OK, kiddies. See you on the other side. I just hope that if this damned Rapture is for real tomorrow, it happens before John and I have to take his mother to lunch.

Yes, I'm horrible. :-)  Have a great weekend, y'all.

May musings

This quiet, semi-gray May day (rhyming unintentional) finds me in thoughtful mode. Not sure where I want to go with this today, so I'm just going to ramble.

May is a highly charged month for me, emotionally. More than any other month in the year, it harbors memories of the most extreme highs and lows.

On the low side, both my brother and my father died in May. In fact, today is the 13th anniversary of my father's passing. I'm not feeling sad, just a bit incredulous. Thirteen years?? Where did the time go?

But on the high side, three years ago in May, Danny and I shot "When Danny Met Erica." That will always be my favorite and most personal video, especially since it seemed for a long time that it would never happen. And then, 15 years ago on Memorial Day, I got my first adult spanking, one of the greatest highs of my life.

No wonder I'm all over the place, huh?

I could go either way, I suppose. I could lose myself in the sadness of the bad memories, or I could choose to reflect on the good ones. Then again, I don't have to be so damned black or white. I could spend a little time in each. And then, most important, I could choose to shake them both off and move forward with my day, with the rest of the month, until it passes.

I like that. That works.

Onward. I'll end with some laughs for whoever feels like watching this. It's the second half of a comedy skit from several years ago -- some of my fellow Baby Boomers may recognize it. It's a spoof of "Gone With the Wind." My father co-wrote it.

Love you, Dad! :-)

Is it possible...

... to be blissfully content, yet sad, at the same time?

I am.

Had a wonderful, intense and emotionally cleansing evening with New Guy. But now I won't see him again until Monday, June 13. That means the next three Mondays will be New Guy-less. He's going away on a long trip across several states to visit family. Part flying, part road trip.

I will miss him.

Today was one of those days. Nothing wrong, just me feeling cranky. Everyone was annoying. Went to the gym... everywhere I went, there were big macho idiots slamming huge weights onto the floor and making such hideous noises, I kept thinking I was going to hear a baby scream any minute because surely they were giving birth. I went to the dumbbell station where they have the smaller ones -- there was a single 8-pound, 10-pound and 12-pound dumbbell. WTF happened to their mates? What was I supposed to do with one dumbbell? Argh.

Finally found a couple of matched pairs (had to wander around a bit; naturally, people used them and didn't return them to their proper spot) and went to the spot where I usually do my arms... someone was there already. So I went somewhere else, and shortly into my reps, a guy came over and started working just a couple of feet from me... and he stank. Christ. The things one has to go through to stay in shape. Somehow, I managed to finish what I was doing without gifting the gym carpet with my breakfast.

Back home, this dreadful woman on FetLife was spewing opinionated drivel right and left, long sanctimonious diatribes about how it's WRONG for spanking parties to allow the "pros" (the quotes were hers) to do pay sessions there. What freaking business is it of hers if people do pay sessions in the privacy of their hotel rooms? Nearly everyone was disagreeing with her -- one woman actually told her "Mind your own business, Church Lady." Ha! But even that didn't shut her up; just kept up her blathering, insisting she had a right to her two cents. So I posted, "Who says money doesn't buy what it used to? Look at all the BS we got for just two cents." She didn't respond to that... yet. I'm sure she'll come up with a lengthy rebuttal when she's drinking her brew tomorrow morning.

I'm telling you, people get on my nerves. I was more than ready for New Guy this evening. It didn't take him more than five minutes to discover I was brimming with attitude and he had his work cut out for him.

Even my panties were cranky.

Look closely. Can you see what's written on them? :-)

Of course, they didn't stay on very long.

Why do tops ask, "Did that hurt?" Don't they know? Can't they tell? Do we have to spell everything out for them, for heaven's sake? :-Þ

It was a very long scene, a lot of implements. Everything is a blur -- I just know it hurt (yes, it hurt, NG). And I welcomed it. I was fuming at first, but I wasn't angry at him, just crabby in general. He knew it, and he kept pushing. Listened to my sounds changing, going from bitching to screaming into the cushion to ultimately whimpering. The final ten with the wooden paddle brought the tears.

He goes from tough to tender in a matter of seconds. I love that.

I kept my head buried for a long time as he held me. I felt foolish, but I couldn't stop the tears from dribbling. Now that the hard shell was broken and I was feeling vulnerable, the thought of three weeks without him felt overwhelming. Silly of me. Such a baby. But I couldn't help it.

Later after I'd recovered, somehow I ended up back over his lap. Seems he took exception to something or another I said; fancy that. Oh, I remember -- he was eating Hershey's Nuggets and throwing the wrappers on the carpet. I asked him if he was raised in a barn.

"I would think you'd be sore by now," he teased. "What makes you think I'm not?" I snapped. Hummph. Like it would make a damn bit of difference whether I were sore or not??

The second scene was even more intense than the first. Guess we had to go for it; after all, it has to tide us over for three weeks.

My computer chair does not feel very pleasant right now; I'm sitting slumped way down, leaning back with just my tailbone and upper cheeks resting in the seat. Absolutely horrible posture... oh well. No one can see me. Good thing, as my hair is a wild tangle and I have mascara smeared under my eyes. And this goofy grin on my face, even though I have a lump in my throat as well.

I really am a piece of work. I don't expect anyone to understand me; I don't understand myself half the time. But I sure do appreciate the love. :-)

Sooooo... in the next three weeks, I will focus on getting my book done. I'm so close now, final stretch. Two weeks from this coming Saturday, I will have Spanking Court again. And then poof, before I know it, New Guy will be back. 

And he's already told me when he comes back, boy, am I gonna get it.

Promise?

Freaking Blogger issues!

Happy Friday the 13th, everyone. Apparently, Blogger decided to commemorate the occasion a day early, by experiencing an epic FAIL all day yesterday and into today as well. Blogs disappeared, blogs came back. Blogs could be read but not commented to. Comments disappeared then came back. Blog came back but entries disappeared. And so on.

I was getting messages from concerned friends, wondering if my blog had been zapped. I assured them (once I figured out what was going on) that it was Blogger-wide and not just mine. It was unnerving at first, though. I mean, some of our fellow bloggers have been summarily dumped lately, so that was my first thought.

The story is, they were doing some routine maintenance on Wednesday and the system got corrupted somehow. So they were doing various tests and repairs yesterday. As it stands now, it seems all the blogs are back, but recent entries have gone missing. They say they're restoring them along with the comments. I won't hold my breath, but at least we're back.

Anyway... if you read my entry about my adventures in book cover creation, that is no longer an issue -- the lovely Zelle has offered to design my cover for me. Thank you to Stan/E. as well for making the same offer, and to others who sent me links to designers. I love how supportive our community is!

And thank you to Chross for putting my Spanking Court report on his list this week. :-)

I'm feeling quite peaceful today. My life, at this moment, is calm and drama-free, just the way I like it. My screwy brain tells me to look over my shoulder and anticipate what unpleasantness may be rolling my way, but I refuse to listen. Stinking thinking.

Regarding the black-and-white photoshoot from a couple of weeks ago, the photographer took some impromptu shots of me with my clothes on as well, just for the hell of it. Here's my favorite:

"Hey, lookie -- it's me!" :-D  Yes, I know my computer monitor is an antique. I don't have a flat-screen TV, either. Sadly, I haven't got the $$$ to upgrade things when their old versions are still working perfectly well.

So, welcome back, Bloggers! I felt very disconnected from y'all yesterday. Have a great weekend.

Book cover crazies

OK, so I've finally chosen my book cover photo and have a Photoshopped high-res image of it on my hot little hard drive. Today, I went into my Amazon CreateSpace account, clicked on Cover and started examining my options.

Where's the Excedrin?

I could use their CreateCover program, which makes it all pretty easy. Just one little problem with that -- I can't use my own picture on the front, just their generic stuff. Next!

I could design my own cover. OK, let's look at that. After dizzily plowing through tons of instructions about measurements and calculations and bleeds and layering, I decided to download their cover template. Once I did so, however, I realized I don't have any program in which I can design the damn thing. So I went to the CreateSpace Community and poked around the forums, looking for advice on design programs. Several people recommended downloading Paint.Net, which is free and simple to use. Went to the Paint.Net site, downloaded the program and then went to install it. Fatal error during installation. Arrrgh. I deleted the program and the template.

I could use CS's Professional Cover Service, which starts at $299. I don't think so. Sounds like a ripoff to me.

One of the authors I spoke with, Annabel Joseph, had recommended a designer to me, one who does custom covers for $50. I saw some of her work and it looked fabulous. So I contacted the designer, but she wrote me back today, saying she wasn't taking on any new custom-cover clients at this time and kindly referred me to a list of other possibilities. I looked up each one; they all had one thing in common. Expensive.

(sigh)

It wasn't this complicated when I used Lulu. But that was four years ago. And let's face it -- despite Endart's beautiful caricature, my first book had a pretty amateur, plain-wrap book cover.

I've put out a couple of feelers for possible designers, but at this point, I'm a little stymied. Ah well. All part of the process, I suppose. Meanwhile, one of my two readers has sent me back his edits. They were minor and his feedback was so very gratifying.

Perhaps I need to wrench myself away from this computer and get to the gym. I think I've accomplished as much as I can at the moment.

Hope everyone's having a decent week. Happy Hump Day.

No post-shoot drop for me...

New Guy saw to that. :-)

Saturday was so full of excitement and sensory overload, and yesterday, I was pretty much wiped out all day. Today my energy had returned, but I was feeling the inevitable letdown after all that stimulation. Didn't last, though. It was Monday, after all. New Guy night.

We talked for a while about my shoot; what, no OTK? No hand spanking? We can't have that! Whatta guy. Started me out with the longest hand spanking I think he's ever given me. After that, I was a primed canvas for every damn toy in his bag, and I welcomed them all, even that horrid wooden paddle.

Not sure why I was so insatiable tonight, but luckily, so was he.

This was fairly early in the scene. I got a lot redder. But try as he might, he couldn't get the left side to match the right one. I am convinced now -- if I don't get a warmup, I mark. If I do, then it's almost impossible to mark me. But hey, he's welcome to try all he wants. :-)

When he took a brief break in the proceedings to use the restroom, I yanked my panties back up. "Who told you that you could pull those back up?" he asked, coming back in. "I wasn't aware I needed permission; I didn't get the memo," I answered.

"Well, I think somebody should pull them back down," he said. I looked up at him over my shoulder. "What, is your arm broken?"

WHAMMMMMO! "Does it feel broken to you?"

Uh... no.

"You gonna take 'em back down?" he asked. "I was just doing you a favor!" I protested. "I know how much you love pulling them down, so I just wanted you to enjoy the experience one more time!" Well, it was worth a try.

I wish I could remember more of our dialogue, because we were both in fine form tonight, but everything is blurred. Ah... I do recall one time when he swung his quirt at me and completely missed; I heard it hit the bedspread. "I'm over here," I smirked, pointing to myself. WHACK! He found me. How about that.

When he broke out the wooden paddle, he commented, "I don't think you got enough wood this past weekend." Oh, brother. I resisted to urge to quip that I never get enough wood (that would certainly backfire on me) and just yelped, "I did too! And your wood is harder than his wood, if you'll pardon the expression." Well, it is, dammit! I have no idea what V was using, but it was more snappy and stinging, whereas NG's paddle is a little thicker. All wood sucks, but there are degrees of suckiness. NG's paddle is sucktastic.

But finally, after about two Mondays' worth of spanking, it was time for lotion and cuddles. All was right with my world. Can you tell?

He is going on a trip late May/early June, visiting his family. I probably won't see him for two weeks. So... when I get moody again, when life has its usual ups and downs, when I am missing him, please remind me... tonight, I was deliriously happy.

Sweet dreams, New Guy.

The Spanking Court report (long!)

Another fantastic time to add to the memory bank. :-)

OK, I know some are wondering what direction we took with my shoot, so I won't draw it out any longer. Last week when V and I played and I'd been in such a down and tense mood, he noticed how I literally transformed under his hands. After he left, he and Cali exchanged emails about it.

Spanking Court's goal is to deal with real issues, not just the crimes and misdemeanors. They have what they call case studies -- people who aren't brought to court, but come voluntarily for help in dealing with a particular problem with the Court's Disciplinary Program. V and Cali came up with this concept for an ongoing case: a woman who has struggled with depression and has discovered that, along with the traditional therapies of medication, exercise, etc., impact play/spanking helps her deal with her periodic episodes, breaking through the malaise, knocking down the walls and elevating endorphins and mood. So... this woman seeks help from SC for professional, compassionate but neutral spanking therapy.

And that woman would be me.

Tricky concept. Didn't want to get too dark with it, but didn't want to make light of it, either. I wanted to present the issue honestly and respectfully, and still maintain my Erica-ness -- my signature sass. I was nervous about it, but I knew as soon as they presented it to me that I wanted to do it.

Saturday morning, I headed for the studio, bag packed with a ton of stuff, and I arrived about 15 minutes ahead of schedule. So I sat in the car for a while and then called Cali on her cell, so she could find me in the parking lot. Lunch had been planned for 11:45, but they were running late, so she came out and found me -- what a cutie she is in person. Porcelain skin, blonde curls and those enormous eyes. We walked back to the entryway, where The Villain, Dana and Ten (who was shooting that day as well) were having a smoke.

I knew I'd like Dana even before I met her, and I wasn't wrong. She got up to shake my hand, then flapped her hand aside and pulled me into a big hug. Ten and I shook hands, then V came over to greet me, smiling and fixing me with that look of his. He knew I was nervous, dammit. He smirked at me so intently that I blurted, "Is this how it's going to be all day, you looking at me like that?" Yup, it was. Wouldn't have it any other way, though.

Cali took me around the studio -- it's huge! Mazes of hallways and lots of rooms. We had our own conference room and then a shooting area with the courtroom and the discipline room. She introduced me to several people, and damned if I remember all the names, but everyone was very friendly. They even had a makeup artist on set; I'd already done mine, but she touched me up a little, put some stuff under my eyes, a little more blush, etc.

I was shooting two sessions; it turned out Ten was doing a fairly elaborate scenario and was doing six sessions. Yikes! For each spanking session, there is also a court appearance scene, so they were still shooting her court scenes. Lunch was put off until about 1:30, where we all trooped across the street to Cali and her hubby H's home for a buffet. I was too nervous to eat much, but they had shrimp! I can't turn down shrimp. :-) Had a small pile of those plus some fruit, and I was done. Sat and chatted with Ten briefly during lunch; she'd been to the BBW the previous weekend, lucky girl. OK, OK, I won't go back there, I promise!

After lunch, Ten shot her remaining courtroom scenes. The conference room was very comfortable and well stocked with snacks and drinks, so I was happy to sit there and read or chat with whoever was there at the time. V didn't have to be on set until the spanking scenes started, so he kept me company some of the time. The makeup artist (wish I could remember her name) was a doll -- she and I talked a bit too.

When they were ready for me, we shot my courtroom scenes first, the ones where I meet with the judge and discuss my issue. That first scene was a little nerve-wracking, as I was unscripted and simply had to tell him about myself and my moodiness, how I feel about it and why I came here. I tried not to think about it too much; just talked and talked. The hardest part, I think, was having to do it all over again, because they wanted two versions of the court scenes (so they could cut and edit the best of both into one). I tried very hard to keep focused on the judge and not drop my eyes and look away like I usually do. After the camera stopped, I caught Dana's eye and she winked at me. Cali gave me a thumbs-up from outside the door. And V came in, walked around the cameras and came over to hug me. They said I did well -- I was honest but not maudlin. Just what I wanted.

Then, wardrobe change and I shot the courtroom scene before the second session, in which I come back and tell the judge how the first session went for me and if I wished to proceed.

V, Cali and I had already decided between us how it was going to go: For the first session, I'd be compliant and it would be a straightforward Court Discipline scene. The judge decreed I'd get 100 with a leather strap, which was pretty much a minimum session. However... when I come in the second time, I'd be in a bit of a mood. Have an attitude. Tell the judge that I need more. He'd up the amount a bit, and then I'd be more challenging with the Disciplinarian, pushing him to ramp it up.

Around 3:30-4:00 (I think?) all the courtroom scenes were shot -- all of Ten's, mine, and one for Lisa, another Court case study who was there for a maintenance session. (She's there for weight loss, and has already lost nearly 50 pounds!) So, let the spankings begin! They were going to alternate Ten and me, with Lisa's scene somewhere in the middle, so Ten went first. It turned out I needn't have fussed about my clothes so much, because they put me in the orange "Sentenced" scrubs after all. I didn't have any flats with me, though, so I asked Cali if it was OK for me to be barefoot. In reply, she opened a closet and showed me an area filled with pairs of clean white sneakers, all sizes! Very impressive. I slipped on an 8 1/2 pair and tightened the Velcro straps. Good... I hate fumbling with laces when I'm nervous.

Finally, it was time for me to shoot the first spanking session. The Discipline Room was daunting, with an amazing array of implements hung on pegboards, the spanking bench in the middle, and V standing there in his all-black outfit, looking fierce. Dana, playing the bailiff/guard, led me over to the bench, asked me to remove my shoes and then my pants, and lie over the bench. V then announced the count and began. I had to count each stroke. Lord knows I get enough practice counting with NG every week, so that part was easy. The strapping was light to medium and I was properly cooperative.

But that was about to change. :-)

I checked in with Cali and V before the next session, making sure we were all on the same page. I was going to come in in a Mood this time, belligerent and challenging. The first spanking didn't do enough; it wasn't hard enough to give me that endorphin rush I needed, so this time I was going to make damn sure that it did.

The judge had decided I'd get 125 this time, again with a leather strap. But V and I decided to switch it up; I'd sass him so relentlessly, he'd change to a wooden implement at 50. I giggled, telling him how much I was going to challenge him. "Yeah," he said, "let's just see how that goes for you." Uh oh. I even told Dana in advance that I was going to be bitchy to her. She approved.

So when she led me to the bench, I pulled my arm away from her, petulantly saying that I knew the way. I met V's glare with my own. And when he gave me the first swat, I said nothing. "Would you care to count?" he snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "Had you started?"

And we were off and running.

I pushed, he pushed back. If he gave me swats I thought were too light, I counted them as half-strokes. When he paused at 50, I said, "Are you tired already?" I heard him fumbling around behind me -- I wasn't supposed to know he was switching implements, so I ragged on him, asking what the holdup was. Then CRAAAAAAACK! The first whack with the wooden whatever it was. I never did see what he used.

I screamed and hollered my way through the next 75, clawing at the bench but holding position (they didn't shackle me). He'd pause to torment me a little, ask me how that was, was it hard enough now? "Oh, just get on with it," I shrieked. He complied.

I wasn't fighting or sassing during the last 25, I don't think. I just bore down and kept the count, and he went faster as we got near the end. After 125, I sort of collapsed onto the bench, panting. He ordered me to stand up and then exit, and on my way out, I glanced at him and meekly said, "Thank you."

Holy moly -- as soon as those cameras stopped, I could feel my butt burning. People were cheering and complimenting our scene, and there it was, that wonderful euphoria. I sort of stumbled/waddled out of the room and sprawled out onto the couch in the hallway, lying on my side with my arm dangling onto the carpet and grinning like an idiot. I think people got a kick out of that -- here's this crazy woman who just got her a$% beat and she's giggling like a schoolgirl. Cali even took some photos (or maybe it was footage? I'm not sure) of my lying there -- perhaps as "evidence" that the Court therapy worked!

Ten's a trouper; she did six of those scenes?? Yowsers. But it looks like I'll get to do more myself -- they want me back. (beaming) No need to twist my arm; this was so much fun and you couldn't ask for nicer people.

I was done, so I got out of the scrubs, packed up my things and gave Cali my IDs for the model paperwork. It was now around 7:10 and I hadn't eaten anything since a few shrimp at lunchtime, even though H had gone out to get Subway platters and I could have had a turkey sandwich, but I didn't. So now that it was all over, the adrenaline plunged, as did my blood sugar, so I was eager to get to John's house so we could have dinner. I felt bad that I'd kept him waiting this long, but he was very sweet about it.

So I made my rounds and hugged everyone goodbye, took off... and promptly got lost. It was a combination of factors: I was still in LaLa Land from the scene, I was hungry and tired, I was in Hollywood and I'm not super familiar with the streets there, and I have no sense of direction whatsoever even on my best day. While I should have headed northeast, I ended up going southwest, and had no idea where I was. At 8:05, I pulled over and called John. "I'm lost."

He got on his computer, went to Google Maps and asked me what the nearest cross street was; I said Fairfax and Melrose. "What's across the street on your left?" I glanced over. "It looks like a school." "Ah, Fairfax High," he said. "OK..." and he proceeded to give me directions. Somehow, they penetrated my foggy brain and I was able to get myself to his place. It was nearly 9:00 and by the time we got out and found a place nearby that was open (he lives in a tiny, sleepy little town and they roll up the sidewalks at 9:00 on Saturday night), I was ready to eat the tires off my car, but I was OK once I got some sustenance.

Despite being wiped out, I was keyed up and couldn't stop talking even after we went to bed. So today, I was a zombie. But a happy zombie.

Soooooo... marks? Yup. Both cheeks were mottled and red last night, but the left one had mostly faded today. The right one, notsomuch.

No complaints from yours truly, though. As Dana put it: "You asked for that one, honey." :-D  Now I think I know why V was whacking my left cheek over and over at one point -- he was trying to even me out! Of course, I didn't appreciate his efforts, yelling, "I have two cheeks, dammit!"

Let's just hope New Guy isn't feeling overly sadistic tomorrow...

What a fun weekend. Thank you, Spanking Court!

I'll end with my favorite line from yesterday. The makeup artist had to remain on set all afternoon, so she could touch us up between scenes. After Ten shot her first spanking scene, one of the cameramen came into the conference room, his eyes sparkling, and said, "They just shot a spanking scene!" (Apparently, he was new to the set and hadn't seen that sort of thing before.) The makeup girl cheerfully answered, "Oh, good! Does anything need powdering?" I almost fell on the floor.

Hope everyone had a nice Mother's Day.

Butterflies!

You know, you'd think I'd be over pre-shoot nerves already; I've been doing this for 11 years. Then again, the jitters are part of the fun and excitement of it, so if they were missing, that would mean I'd become somewhat jaded and blasé about the whole thing. Not a chance.

So off I go to Spanking Court tomorrow. What's my reason for being there, you're wondering. Sorry, kids. I'm not telling. It's a secret for now. :-)  Let's just say it's different from what anyone would expect.

I've had messages bouncing back and forth all week with Cali and the Villain, driving them nuts for input, and I finally stopped on Wednesday, not wanting to be too annoying. So what am I obsessing about today? What I'm going to wear! Arrgh! Who cares, really? Aside from the panties, is anyone really looking at my outfit all that much? I admit, I got spoiled with Shadow Lane and Spanking Epics. Eve buys all the dresses and lingerie for the models, which is unheard of elsewhere, and Spanking Epics shot period pieces so Bethany provided the costumes.

I'll figure it out.

Cali was sweet enough to invite me to lunch before the shoot, so I will join them, but doubt I'll be eating much. There's no room in my belly for food, what with all the butterflies banging around in there.

I'm not going to John's tonight; I need to stay home and be quiet, get a good night's rest. He understands, bless his heart.

The book is on hold for now, since both my readers are in the middle of it. But I've had so much fun meeting with photographers for the cover! Yesterday, I met with a man from Model Mayhem who had contacted me for a project of his own, and he offered to do some shots in trade, so I could add to my own collection. He shoots in B&W and his work is amazing.

He'd brought his laptop with him, so he was able to download my photos right away and let me choose the ones I liked. Then I watched while he Photoshopped them. Wow! I've never seen anyone do that before, and it's fascinating.

Most of what he did, I didn't comprehend -- stuff with the lighting and shading and contrast and softening this and filtering that. But I loooooved watching him zero in on my body and work his magic. Freckles, poof! Dark circles under my eyes, zap! That weird little mole/wart/whatever the @#$% it is on my left butt cheek? Gone! Damn... what did we ever do before Photoshop was invented?

Et voila....

I have tons of photos, but the ones he took are like professional portraits -- I am really thrilled with them. :-)

Thanks to everyone who participated in the Masochism post. I was trying to generate a little action with something interesting. It's one of those subjects that will never have a definitive resolution, but it's fun to hear all the different takes on it. And thanks for being respectful!

(deep breath)  Have a great weekend, y'all. Wish me luck, please.

The Masochism Tango

If you've never heard this classic from Tom Lehrer, have a listen. Granted, masochism is broadly played for laughs here, but what exactly is masochism?

This blog was prompted by a snippet of conversation last week with The Villain. During a pause in the proceedings, I'd asked him if he was a switch. "I'm a sadomasochist," he answered. "Isn't that what we all are?"

"No," I said. "I have no desire to inflict pain on anyone." "Ah," he replied, "you're a masochist, then."

I must have made a face, because he added, "You don't like that term, do you." "No, I really don't," I said. "I mean, I don't get off on pain for pain's sake. I don't get wet when I stub my toe. But when it comes to spanking pain, I'm like 'gimme gimme gimme!'"

He just heard the "gimme gimme gimme" part and cheerfully complied. The conversation fell by the wayside. But I've been thinking about it ever since.

Here is the Dictionary.com definition of masochism:

gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others, especially the tendency to seek this form of gratification.

This sounds fairly broad, doesn't it? Wouldn't the implication be that a masochist is gratified by pain, period? Not a highly specific type of pain? What about the psychological aspects of said pain -- does that enter into the masochism equation?

I've heard that a spankee who claims he/she isn't a masochist is in denial. I don't think I'm in denial; I don't object to the term per se. I just think in some cases of certain types of bottoms, it's inaccurate.

Yes, I am gratified by having pain inflicted on my bottom. But it's so much more than that -- it's about head space, power exchange, chemistry, emotions. And take that pain anywhere else on my body, and I go through the roof.

I have known of some hardcore masochists who can absorb (and get off on) all varieties of pain, the more the better. Their bodies are canvases for torture. Me? I hate pain. First sign of a headache, I'm running for the Advil bottle. I'm scared of dentists. I love spanking, but other forms of BDSM? Nyet.

If I were a masochist, wouldn't I enjoy this?

Oh hell, no. The one time someone briefly tried this on me, the only thing I got out of it was the urge to thrust my heel back and rearrange his teeth.

And don't even get me started on this:

I can't even bear witness to breast play, not of any kind, let alone endure it. Four words -- learn them, and learn them well: Leave_the_girls_alone.

But some of this action?

Yeah, baby. Bring it.

If I were a masochist, just into the pure gratification from pain, would I be so damn picky about my play partners? Would the attraction and chemistry be so important -- I mean, as long as the guy is a pain delivery system, does anything else matter? Oh, and what about technique being important? So he has crappy technique and couldn't hit the side of a barn accurately, so what? Wouldn't that make it all the more masochistically exquisite? "Ooooohhhh... you wrapped that strap all the way around my thigh -- do it again, please please please?"

I don't seek pain. I seek spanking. And if it were just about the pain of spanking, I could just as easily self-spank. Or, as mentioned, play with any Joe Blow with a hand and a lap.

Oh, and that degradation/deprivation/humiliation business? Big fat "no thank you" to that as well.

So, here's my question, fellow bottoms: What does masochist mean to you? And more important, do you consider yourself one? Why or why not?

EDIT: Guys, I know this could be a somewhat controversial topic -- let's be nice, OK? Don't make me be toppy; I really hate that. :-)

So, so glad to see him...

I really missed New Guy last week. I know, it was just one skipped week. But it felt like longer than that, for some reason.

It took a while for us to get started; I was busy yakking at him, bubbling away about my book, the photo shoot I had last Friday, the upcoming Spanking Court shoot, blah blah blah. You know, I could have sworn he put an anonymous comment on my blog last week; whoever it was sounded exactly like him. He insisted he did not. Then I said, "I don't believe you!"

I'm not really sure what possessed me to say that.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

No, I protested, I didn't say that. "Yes, but it's implied," he said. Aaaaaand... we were off and running. Actually, no running was involved, but you know what I mean.

He was of the opinion that I should apologize. I had a difference of opinion. Amazing how convincing he can be, though... I came around to see it his way. I finally gasped out that I was sorry. "Thank you!" he beamed, then added, "that doesn't mean your spanking is over, though."

@#$%&*!!!!!!!!!!!

After Round One, I showed him some of the photos and then we got to talking about dungeon/BDSM parties and some of our experiences there. I told him a couple of my more risqué tales (including that infamous one in which John and I ventured into a swing club for the evening), and he shook his head. "You know, you're a very naughty girl."

Tell me something I don't know, Mr. Obvious. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, and you should get a spanking for it."

Right. He had just finished telling me his own risqué stories. Hypocrite! Hypocrite! Still, hypocrisy or no, I wound up OTK again.

"Are you learning the error of your ways?" he smirked at me after a few minutes.

"No," I retorted, "but at least this time you have a real reason, instead of making shit up like you usually do."

"There you go, calling me a liar again." Uh oh. He did a rather deft maneuver: lifted me off his lap, flipped me over into his arms and stood up, flipped me face down again in midair and plunked me back down over the ottoman.

Such a Neanderthal. I loved it, of course. With one hand fisted in my hair, holding me fast, his other arm went fiercely to work.

And once again... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmpppppphhhhh.

We were so busy this time, we didn't take pictures. Ah well.

It's been a good few days. I think this latest photo shoot is going to yield a cover picture. John and I had a lovely weekend; he was so sweet to me, taking me out for a special dinner Saturday night. I now have two people reading my book: my anonymous new friend, and Danny, who volunteered to do so last night (thank you, sweetie!). So I have the best of both -- one completely objective person who doesn't know me, and one dear friend who knows me well, and both of them excellent writers. And this weekend, yet another video shoot.

Post-shoot drop? Nahhhh. New Guy will be over next Monday to give me a little hair of the dog. :-D

Here is a picture from last Friday. This particular one is not a good fit for the cover, but I like it a lot. It represents how I feel right now... blissfully relaxed, boneless, warm and tingly in my skin. Thank you, NG. ♥