PLEASE NOTE: This blog contains adult subjects and content, and because of Google/Blogger's recent nonsense, I HAVE MOVED TO WORDPRESS. For my enlightened friends who wish to visit me in my new home, it's Please bookmark it!

The rest of you? Please take your judge-y selves somewhere more wholesome, like here:

Go on.... shoo!

Monday, October 31, 2011

An All Hallow's Eve Visit From Super Spanko!!

It started out like a normal Monday night. I put out a bowl of candy and greeted ST when he arrived. He was a little late, saying the traffic was bad. Before he even put his stuff down, he said he needed to use my bathroom.

I did think it was a little strange that he took his toy bag in there with him, but I figured he was in such a hurry to go, he didn't even think about putting it down.

Several minutes passed, and I wondered what was going on. Finally, the door opened, but there was no sign of ST. Instead, a masked stranger leaped into my living room.

(gasp!) Super Spanko! Who the hell was that?? As you might imagine, he didn't give me any time to think about it. I've never been spanked by a superhero before. It's quite surreal, let me tell you. And for whatever reason, I couldn't stop laughing.

"You think this is funny?" he thundered. "You won't laugh for long!"

"Wanna bet?" I snickered, giggling so hard I could hardly catch my breath.

First I was over his knee for a while. Oh, the horror!

"Are you learning anything?" he scolded in his gravelly superhero tones.

"Yeah," I gasped. "I'm learning that I really, REALLY need to be more careful about who I open my door to!"

"That's right. I thought that issue had already been addressed, by that wonderful man, Mr. [ST's last name]."

"Who??" I said.

"You know...I believe he goes by the name Spanko Tango. Great guy. Great spanker!"

"Oh, him," I yawned. "He's not so great. I'm still opening my door to strangers, so obviously I didn't learn anything."

Wrong thing to say. Over the ottoman I went. Still couldn't stop laughing, though. Here's me, laughing my head off at Super Spanko.

He blustered that he wasn't going to stop until I confessed that I was a Naughty Girl, and that naughtiness doesn't pay.

"It does TOO pay!" I jeered. "I've gotten paid for naughtiness lots of times! I'm getting paid for it this Saturday!"

Unacceptable. He broke out the heavy artillery.

"Does it pay?" "Yes!" "Does it pay?" "Yes!" "Does it pay?" "Yes!" "Does it pay?" "NO, goddamn it!"

What can I say. Wood works wonders.

"My work here is not quite done," he said. "You need 15 more of these. And you will have to count them!"

"Why... because you can't?" I quipped. Damn, I'm a fool sometimes. But it's so worth it. :-)

Afterward, he dramatically announced that at last, his work here WAS done, and he left... but he didn't go out the front door, he went into the bathroom. Weird. But I guess even superheroes have to pee.

Once again the bathroom door opened, and this time, ST emerged. "Sorry I took so long in there," he apologized. "I wasn't feeling very well." TMI, honey. Really. I don't know what you were up to, but I had one hell of an adventure while you were gone. Who was that masked man?

We relaxed for a while, chatting away and eating chocolate. Perfectly hysterical end to a hilarious night? Weird Al Yankovic was on the radio, and they played something of his I'd never heard before. What is it about polka music that's so damn funny? And his polka parodies of rock songs absolutely slay me. I was laughing myself sick with this, so I hope y'all like it too -- Bohemian Polka. Happy Halloween!

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Sunday blather

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

John had his own theory about my Jekyll/Hyde correspondent last week. He said the reason why the guy was nice at first, and then changed so drastically, was because he had no intention of meeting with me. That first photo he sent me, of Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome with the shampoo-commercial hair? Fake. He's really a 300-pound toad. (that probably wasn't his real dick, either, but that's beside the point.) Apparently he gets his jollies by engaging with women and messing with their heads, without having to actually meet them.

OK, that makes as much sense as anything else, I guess. "Why would he suggest you come right to his house to play, rather than meeting for coffee first?" he asked. "Because he knows most women won't go for that. And if they do, he'll give them a fake address."

Takes all kinds, doesn't it. Yeeeeesh.

So here's a thought; someone suggested this a while back, but I can't remember who it was. I have enough CHoS material accumulated from the past few years; what if I pull it all together, organize it and make a book out of it? I could have different chapters, like one just for the age comments, one for those special form letters that go on and on, one for entries from women (yes, I do have them), and so on. Could be fun. Perhaps I could have a chapter of contributions from friends, of their own charming missives.

Something to think about. I can't seem to find any work, so perhaps that project could keep me from completely losing my mind.

Speaking of losing one's mind... today at brunch, we were seated near one of the dreaded "large party" tables. Toward the back of the restaurant, there are booths on one side and then across from them are tables pushed together for big families and groups. Sometimes we get lucky and the groups are all adults, but not today. This time, it was a large group of mostly kids, chattering and blasting some game with music pumping on their iPad, laughing, kicking the chairs and making a racket. The two adults at the table ignored them, of course.

They left when we were halfway through our meal, and I realized I hadn't taken a proper breath since we sat down. Heaving a sigh of relief, I settled down to enjoy the latter half of my brunch. Five minutes later, another (even bigger) party was seated... with even younger children. And a baby. Which was plunked in a high chair at the end of the table closest to us, naturally. He wasted no time in emitting those delightful ear-splitting shrieks that only babies can do, and throwing things on the floor.

"Finish up, honey, and let's get out of here," I hissed to John. Our server was so frazzled, she forgot to bring us our check and we had to sit there for several minutes listening to the cacophony.

By the time we got out of there, I was so thoroughly rattled, I walked down the wrong aisle in the parking lot. Got to the end of it where I knew I'd left my car, and... nothing. "John, oh my God, where's my car??" I cried.

"Sweetie," he said gently, turning me slightly to look over to the next aisle, where my car was exactly where I'd left it.

I swear, I just wanted to sit down in the middle of the asphalt and scream my head off.

Earlier this week, I was taking an online Myer-Briggs personality test, and one of the items was "Agree/Disagree: I am disturbed and distracted by outside noises." There needed to be a third option for an answer: "That's the understatement of the fucking universe."

It's not easy being me sometimes, folks. Especially the me who goes crazy with stress over noisy children/babies, loud neighbors, people who talk in movie theaters, music/TV blasters, barking dogs... Considering we live in a world that just hit a population of 7 billion, peace and quiet is getting to be a rare commodity that is attainable only by the very wealthy. (sigh)

Enough of that. It's very quiet in my apartment tonight. I have a new neighbor moving in next door and I'm all freaked out about that as well, but for tonight, they aren't here yet.

Tomorrow is Halloween. What's everyone doing? Or did some of you have parties this weekend? I'm not really into it, myself -- i think it's for kids. But I do love the candy.

Apropos of nothing, if anyone else is feeling down or stressed, take a look at the little clip below. This commercial never fails to make me giggle. I love Jimmy Fallon, and it seems he's met his match here! Where on earth did they get that kid??

I love how she says one of my favorite words. ;-)  Night, y'all.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/28

Another one so soon? Sort of. I have a few funnies, and then one that's really bugging me and I want to get it out of my head.

let be friend ples

Well, at least he said ples. But I'm still going to pass.

Hi..there.I'm bored & just checkin things out.I cant take my eyes off your profile pics.I wana say,"u got a very gorgeous spankable firm Bottom.I'm very turned-on by your already stinged redden cheeks.

Stinged? Did he mean singed? Stung?
I'm sorry you're bored. Try reading a book. There are some really cute pop-up ones available on Amazon.

all i want to do is give u a good spnking every time i come to town i visit my kids there in fresno and i pass thru ur town once a month so get back too me and maybe u will be dropping ur drawers for me sometime soon

Dropping ur drawers??
Sure, come on over. I'll drop a fully loaded dresser drawer on your foot.

Last week, I got a reply on my profile from a man who lives four miles from me. His note was brief, but respectful, and he attached a photo, a face shot, just as I requested in my profile. Nice. He also included his phone number and said "let's talk."

(groan) I hate the phone, as you know. And I especially hate talking to strangers on it. But his profile was very clear -- he said he hated endless emails and he needed to hear a voice in order to make a connection. OK, fine. It won't kill me. So I called.

We had a nice conversation. He asked me a lot of questions, wanted to know about limits and tolerance, preferences, etc. Among other things, I told him that I love scolding, but I do not like verbal degradation and rough talk. "I totally get it," he said. Then he said that because he wasn't a top tier member on Alt, he couldn't see my pictures, only a thumbnail of the profile shot. Could I send him a few photos? Sure, I said, and he gave me his email.

I selected a couple of shots and sent them to him. And then I got this in return:

Very nice. I'll enjoy brutalizing your ass.

I felt like I'd been socked in the gut. Did he not hear a word I'd said? Brutalize? I don't want to be freaking brutalized.

I didn't reply. Then, last Monday, I got another email from him. This time, a close-up shot of his hand clutching his erect member. This is what's in my pants. Call me.

My Alt profile clearly states, in bold: "I want to see your face, not your dick. Please don't send me X-rated pictures."

I felt violated, like I'd experienced some sort of bait-and-switch. He was a gentleman at first, then as soon as he got me to nibble the bait, he became someone else. I thought I had better instincts than this; why was I so fooled? Was it because he was good looking? Am I that shallow? (yeah, I am, somewhat. Who am I kidding?)

I wrote back: "(sigh) If I wanted to see that, I would have stayed at my boyfriend's house." He wrote back: "I am not your boyfriend." Well, duh.

The next day, he wrote once more, asking if I was ready to come over for a spanking. I didn't reply. I was done. When he didn't hear from me, he sent me this: Clearly u r not ready to be spanked by a man like me. I thought we had a very clear and connected chat.

We did. And then you morphed into Dick Boy.

I don't know why this one is bothering me so much. Maybe it's because I'm disgusted with myself. You're so greedy, Erica. You have a wonderful play partner; why even experiment with anyone else? Or I'm pissed off that I was fooled by a pretty face. Maybe part of me was flattered because he's 39 years old and he could get any cute young thing he wants, but he was writing to me.

You know what? I DO have the best possible play partner in ST. But that doesn't mean I never want to play with anyone else. When The Villain was local, I played with him too. And let's be real. I don't have all that many spankable years left. I want to enjoy as much as I can for as long as I can, while men still want to play with me.

I dunno... this left me feeling both foolish and angry. Maybe now that I've put it out there, I can let it go. It's so not worth the time and space in my head.

Move on, Erica. It's another weekend. And next Saturday, I go back to Spanking Court one last time, to wrap up my story arc. I can't wait.

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Odds & Ends not in my book, Part 3

Today's offering: a favorite Danny Chrighton story.

Most of you know by now that Danny was my play partner for a few years, when he lived here in L.A. He's still a dear friend, even though he lives in CO now. I wrote about him at length in my book, but here's a little tidbit that didn't make it.

We shared an appreciation for Rat Pack-style music, especially Dean Martin. He knew my favorite Dino song is "Memories Are Made Of This" -- when Shadow Lane had their "Brat Pack" party a few years ago, I'd requested that song. (I believe Danny's favorite was "Sway," if I'm remembering correctly.)

Anyway, cut to a private house spanking party we attended one Saturday night. It was a fun, lively gathering, back in the day when L.A. had a great party scene. Our host was in a band, and he and his bandmates were playing for us in the garage.

After the band stopped and most of the people had meandered back inside to eat, play, etc., Danny wandered over and picked up one of the guitars. I knew he could play and sing -- he'd brought a guitar to his first SL party and played on the stage with Bob the DJ. Still, I couldn't resist teasing him. "Hey, put that down. It's not a toy."

He just smiled at me, then began to play. I recognized the song immediately -- "Memories Are Made Of This."

He sang the entire song, start to finish. Knew all the chords, all the lyrics. Some others came back in and a small crowd gathered. But he was playing to me.

I don't know if he always knew the song, or if he learned it after he found out it was my favorite. Doesn't matter. No man had ever sung to me before. Let me tell you, it's a really lovely experience.

When the song was over, people clapped, and there was a chorus of "Danny, I didn't know you could play!" "Wow, that was great!" etc. I stood back, waiting for the group to disperse once again. Then I walked over to Danny and whispered three words:

"Play with me."

More than anything at that moment, I wanted to be over his lap, feeling the intensity of that same hand that had just strummed out a song I loved. He took my hand and led me back into the house, and we found a private area to have an intense spanking scene. Lovely.

"Sweet sweet, the memories you gave to me..."

In case y'all don't know the song, here it is: (click on the arrow, then on the link "Watch This on YouTube")

Monday, October 24, 2011

Tension Be-Gone

If spanking's stress-release properties could be bottled as a drug, that could be its commercial name. I almost always want spanking, but sometimes, I really, really, really freaking NEED it. Crave it soul-deep. Tonight was one of those times.

I love John, truly I do. His family? Notsomuch, as most of you know by now. Are they rude to me? No, they're perfectly pleasant to me, most of the time. It's John they aren't so nice to. He's always been the picked-on one in the family -- first because he was the youngest, and then later simply because he's different from them. (and thank God for that)

But oh, when they need something? An able body to help move things? Or, more often, money? Then he's Johnny the Cash Cow! And what drives me absolutely spitting insane is that no matter what they ask of him, he does it. He has this blind familial loyalty, and they don't deserve it.

So when he told me that his eldest sister wanted to meet with him Sunday morning, my first thought was, "What does she want?" And sure enough... "We need to talk about Mom." Their 84-year-old mother still lives in her own apartment, with the siblings taking turns visiting, taking her out, etc., and some hired help coming during the week to do things for her. But she's getting too addled to live on her own.

One plan was for John's brother, sister-in-law and nephew to take her in. However, they'd need a bigger house. And that's where John comes in, of course. To chip in his healthy share of the down payment, because he makes more money than the other three. Mom has a good chunk of liquid cash, but not enough.

"I'll have equity in the house," he said. "You already have a house," I pointed out. "You don't need their damn equity." Yeah, he makes good money. But he's going to need that money, for when he has to retire early and have open heart surgery. And I guaran-damn-tee none of his family will be around when HE's in need.

So, I was pissed, I admit it. I get so frustrated at his willingness to always help people who aren't particularly nice to him. Blood, shmud. I hate seeing him taken advantage of. Whenever one of his sisters says something snarky about him to me, I silently grit my teeth. "We think you're a saint for putting up with him." Well, I think he's the saint for living with you guys all those years and not putting arsenic in your Wheaties.

And where exactly will this new house be? If John's sister has her way, it will be right near HER, for her convenience. However, John's mom now lives five minutes from John, and it's easy for us to pick her up each Saturday for lunch. When she's farther away, are we still going to have to take her out every damn week? I'm not all that crazy about it now. I don't see my own mother, for God's sake. And when I did, it was once every couple of months, not every week. Yeah, I know. Stop borrowing trouble.

But I was tense about it yesterday, and to my chagrin, found I was still angry about it today. By the time ST got here, I was ready to ask him, "Please, be extra dominant tonight. I need it." But instead, I just came right out and told him I was in a MOOD, and why. And I spared no expletives or unpleasant rhetoric. Yes, I can be a right bitch sometimes.

Did I get a sympathetic ear?? Noooooooooooooooo! OK, OK, maybe at first. But then he said I needed a damn good spanking for being so crabby and saying those things. "That's not fair!" I snapped. "I didn't say this stuff to John! I'm saying it to you! Aren't I allowed to have a confidante?"

"Yes," he said, "and I'm confidante that you're getting a spanking!"

Oh, grooooaaaaan.

Again with the heavy artillery again tonight, not much hand. But it's fine; I wanted it. I kicked and squirmed, but still raised upward for more.

Candid shot he snuck in of my face; what was I doing, biting my knuckle?

He was laying it on me so hard tonight, he actually let me rub. He usually doesn't, the big meanie-face.

The anger flew out of my pores. I made furious sounds, I pounded the bed and glared ferociously at him. He responded by firmly pushing down on the small of my back or gripping my hair. He wasn't going to let me get away with any of my crap, and I wouldn't have wanted him to.

He was giving me exactly what I needed, and he knew it.

See the fist?

He prevailed, of course. As it should be. I calmed down, stopped fighting, absorbed it with deep breaths and focus.

"You need this, don't you? You need it hard and fast, don't you?"

"Yes," I groaned. "Yes, yes, YES!" If anyone had been listening in, they might have thought we were filming porn. But nope... this was therapy. This was sweet relief, in an unorthodox but most effective manner.

A non-candid face shot -- yow. Good thing he's thick-skinned, huh? One might think I hate his guts or something. :-)

Afterward? Wonderfully, blissfully relaxed. I could have fallen asleep snuggled in his arms. Peacefully happy, smiling, practically purring. He came in to a porcupine and left a kitten.

John and I are OK, by the way. He was even joking with me during brunch yesterday. "So, let me make sure we're clear, sweetie," he said, cutting a forkful of his omelet. "The idea of moving you and Mom into my house, so you could take care of her during the week while I'm at work, isn't an option?" I smiled at him and didn't reply. Instead, I picked up my knife and pretended to cut my wrist.

ST, you are the absolute best. Thank you, my confidante. :-)

Friday, October 21, 2011

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/21 / Twitter

Happy Friday! Today's CHoS is brief, so I thought I'd combine it with some of my observations about Twitter, so far.

i would like to seeyou
i am very healthy not bad looking love oral sex and well off financially

Apparently, he doesn't love punctuation.

This was from a man wearing a Day-Glo purple wig:

how about foot TICKLING???
or role playing ???
I am nearby in SFV
like translesbians in thigh boots like me ???
call me

Umm... if I liked foot TICKLING, I would have said so in my profile. And really, are the triple question marks necessary???

And this, from a man with a nice close-up shot of his erect member:

surrender your mind and body then fuck luke rabbits. Let’s talk and make it happened.

I don't know who Luke is, but I don't want to fuck him or his rabbits.

When I didn't reply, he wrote to me three more times. Some people really don't get it.

Some of you saw me ranting on FetLife earlier this week about how I started a new topic in a group and the moderator deleted it. I sent him a message, no hostility, just a simple question, and I quote:

Why was the topic I just posted a few minutes ago removed?

He wrote back, very snarky and combative, saying my topic was redundant (please! Topics are repeated on FL every damn day), and he didn't appreciate my complaining and questioning him. He ended his missive with this:

Shrugs ..yeah that is right, were all control freaks asshole meanie mods .

No, not all. Just you, stupid.

So I've been on Twitter a couple of months now, long enough to notice some generalities.

1. It has its fun moments. I like to see what my friends are up to, and sometimes people post some really funny comments and pictures.

2. The occasional intelligent conversation between several tweeters does pop up on occasion, but is severely limited due to the character limits.

3. About three-quarters of the time, posting on Twitter is the cyber-equivalent of talking to yourself, because you get no response.

4. People tweet about food, a lot.

5. Some people tweet deeply personal and heartbreaking things. I have been known to blog some pretty heavy stuff, but I think one's personal agony, if it's going to be made public, deserves more than 140 characters.

6. People tweet WAYYYYYYYYYYYY too damn much information sometimes, and I think they forget they're talking to thousands of people, not just IMing with their friends. For example, there has been an ongoing conversation since last night about butt plugs. Please, make it stop! I like these people. I just don't want to read about what's going up their butts.

7. I have 170 followers at this time. Many are scene people, but then I get the occasional Christian fundamentalist or right-wing conservative. And they're following me because....?

8. Twitter is a good place to quickly pass on some information to a whole lot of people. It's also a place where you can waste a great deal of time if you're not careful.

Guess what got Chrossed today? My off-topic Jerry Lewis post! Now that makes me smile.

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Odds & Ends not in my book, Part 2

Since I got so much positive feedback about last Sunday's blog, I thought I'd continue with the trend, using these bits and pieces for fun filler.

My father worked with Jerry Lewis for many years. Back in the Dark Ages (the early 1950s), Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis starred in a variety show called the Colgate Comedy Hour. Jerry was fresh and young and hadn't developed into an egotistical monster yet, and he and Dean were perfect together. 

Slice of nostalgia for you:

My mother once told me that back then, Jerry was so hysterically funny (and dirty) in person, she'd laugh until her ribs and stomach ached hours afterward. But cut to the 1960s, when Dad was working on Jerry's solo show, and things weren't so much fun anymore. I have vague memories of my father coming home from work, slamming things around and uttering things I won't repeat. To say he didn't like Jerry Lewis was an epic understatement.

He wasn't alone, of course. I once spoke with a woman who was doing a program on Jerry; she was calling my dad's apartment and I happened to be there, going through his things. I told her my father had passed away, and she asked me if I knew how he'd felt about Jerry Lewis. She said, and I quote: "People tend to feel one of two ways about him -- they either think he walks on water, or they want to hold him under water." I laughed and assured her that my father belonged in the latter category.

Anyway... while going through a chest of drawers, I found a fun little souvenir. (A few of you who know me in person have seen this; most of you have not. And I apologize in advance for the dreadful picture quality.) It was a cigarette lighter, with a caricature of Jerry Lewis plus his signature on the front.

(My thumb is over the top of it for a reason.) I turned it over, and saw that Jerry had taken something sharp and scratched the date and a message:

The date was "12/8/67." The message is a little weird -- personally, "To Eddie, love, Jerry" would have made more sense. (Always a proofreader, that's me.)

But let's go back to the front of the lighter. Apparently, after receiving this gift, my father scratched in a little message of his own.

Did I mention my father didn't like Jerry Lewis? :-D (He did like Dean, though.)

I still can't look at this thing without cracking up. Ah, Dad, I miss you.

And speaking of my book, I'd like to give Hermione a huge THANK YOU for this.

Happy Hump Day!

Monday, October 17, 2011

Two-fer: Monday fun and birthday greetings

So, you guys remember how last week, I discovered ST's paddle peeking out from under the bed, and I fessed up to finding it rather than letting him think he lost it?

He came in tonight, claiming I hid it from him and I kicked it under the bed! Well, I never! I most certainly did not. Really, I didn't. So I protested, and then he backed down, saying, "You're right. I apologize. You're such a good girl, I shouldn't spank you at all."

Yeah. Right.

As you can imagine, that didn't last very long. He couldn't stand it.

We've been playing in the bedroom lately, since my next-door neighbor moved out and so the bedroom on the other side of the wall is temporarily empty. I must say, it's nice to be able to make a bit of noise and not shove my face into a pillow all the time.

But you know, he still didn't believe that I was so accommodating, announcing to the world that I'd found his paddle.

"I was just trying to be nice!" I squawked. And you know what he had the nerve to say to that? "Oh, please. I've never known you to be nice!"

HUMMMMMPPPPPPPHHHH! Excuse me?? Me, not nice? I am a fucking living doll, dammit.

I even went and got him a glass of water, bringing it in and saying, "Here you are, Your Majesty."

He liked that, and suggested I lengthen the honorific to Lord God Your Majesty. I counter-suggested something he didn't like, for whatever reason, and we were off and running.

That's just an expression. There was no running. Although my legs were pumping.

He barely used his hand tonight -- said it was hurting him. Good thing he had a bag of toys, huh? Right?

Yeah. Wheee. (rolling eyes)

I wish, just once, I could keep some color for more than a minute or two. It looks like he barely patted me, doesn't it? I guarantee you, he did a lot more than that. Lucky me. :-)

Thank you, sweetie. You cheered me up a great deal tonight.


Earlier this year, I met and played with The Villain for the first time, here in my apartment. I knew he was involved with Dana Kane, but she and I hadn't met, nor had we had any correspondence. So I thought it was mighty cool of her to be OK with his coming over to play with me, a stranger. Believe me, I do not take that for granted. I know it's kind of ridiculous -- me, a threat to anyone? really?? -- but in the past, I've dealt with jealousy/insecurity that bordered on the psychotic, so I am hyper-cautious.

So after he left, I wrote her a note on FetLife, just to say hello and thank you for letting me "borrow" V for the afternoon. I was respectful and even used a proper honorific. Later, she wrote back, saying "Please, just call me Dana" and that they were both overjoyed when they could find someone sane to play with. (Sane?? Me? uhhhh... ok) She then added, "He came home grinning like the Cheshire Cat, so thank you."

Damn, I thought. I think I'm really going to like this woman. And I did, the minute I met her in person, in May. When I went to shake her hand and she gave me a great big hug.

So, I'm a little early 'cause it's not quite October 18 yet, but,


Wishing you lots of love and special attention and cake and presents and anything else your heart desires, you gorgeous woman. :-)

Glad you all enjoyed the "Hollywood insider" post. I'll try to come up with a few more of those.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Odds & Ends not in my book

Just for the hell of it, I'm going to post random stories that aren't in Late Bloomer.

My book, while fairly thorough, skipped around some and I left a lot of tidbits out. Some by accident; I simply forgot them. John has reminded me of a few I wish I'd included. I'll write up some of those at times, when the mood strikes. Others I omitted because I didn't want the book to be overlong.

One friend said I should have put in a lot more Hollywood stuff: stars I'd met, people who came to our house, etc. I chose to keep that to a minimum. Why? For one thing, I thought too much name-dropping would be kind of obnoxious and detract from the story. For another, we're talking about another time -- celebrities from 40-50 years ago. If I mentioned some of these people, at least two-thirds of my readers wouldn't know who the hell I'm talking about.

For example, any of you remember Gig Young?

Didn't think so.

Gig Young was a suavely handsome actor who did movies in the 1940s through the early 70s. He could do both comedy and drama and he was quite talented, but he never made it to leading man. He was always the second banana, the sidekick, the co-worker, the best friend. He was one of those actors you knew you'd seen before, but you couldn't remember his name.

Here he is in some pictures from a popular episode of Twilight Zone:

Yeah, I know... what kind of a stupid name is "Gig"? Again, remember the time. Back then, actors had names like Rock, Tab and Skip.

He was married five times, including to Elizabeth Montgomery of Bewitched.

In 1969, he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his performance in a dark little film called They Shoot Horses, Don't They? But after that, his career declined.

In the early 70s when I was living with my dad, he had a friend who was a chef and owned an Italian restaurant in what was then the Beverly-Comstock Hotel (today, it's the Beverly Hills Plaza Hotel). We went to this restaurant all the time, gorged on mountains of pasta and hung out talking with other patrons. On any given night, you could find Gig Young sitting off by himself at a table, chain-smoking and drinking himself into a stupor.

One night, my dad and I were there, along with the daughter of one of Dad's oldest friends (coincidentally, she too was named Erica). After we ate, at Dad's lead, we got up and went to join Gig at his table. He was charming, in a slurry drunk sort of way.

Don't know if you guys have ever noticed this, but a lot of times, intoxicated people will say the most mundane things and think they are profound, amusing, or profoundly amusing. My father, who'd had his share that night, said out of nowhere, "How many other tables do you think there are in the world right now, with two Ericas sitting at them?" Uh... Dunno, Dad. Didn't give it much thought, really.

He then lifted his glass, gestured to include Gig, and added, "Or how about two Ericas and a Gig?"

I decided to cut him off. "I don't know, Dad, but I gurantee that nowhere in the universe is another table with two Ericas, an Everett and a Byron." My father's birth name was Everett. And Gig Young's real name was Byron Elsworth Barr.

Everyone snickered, especially Gig, tickled that I knew that bit of trivia. I'd out-profounded my father, and I wasn't even drunk.

When it came time to leave, Dad got up and gave Gig a man-hug and a clap on the back. He then turned away to help the other Erica on with her jacket, so I reached up to give Gig a hug too. And he very quickly shoved his booze-pickled tongue in my mouth.

Shame on you, Byron. I was 15, for heaven's sake. I didn't tell my dad, though. I was already well aware that people do weird things when they're plastered.

So whatever happened to jolly old Gig Young? In 1978, three weeks after marrying his fifth wife, he shot her to death, then turned the gun on himself. He was 64.

Yup, fun Hollywood stories! But people do enjoy them, I suppose. John is always fascinated with my celebrity stories. His one brush with fame was meeting Buddy Ebsen once, when his family went sailing. Apparently Jed Clampett had a boat too.

Oh, and a side story about that restaurant. For a while, a maitre d' worked there -- a young man (20s) with a loud voice, an overabundance of energy and wildly curly hair. He had a habit of telling people what they should and shouldn't eat; I recall one time when he very pointedly told me that I would have been better off choosing a salad over the fettucini alfredo. (Yes, thank you, I know I'm chunky. Fuck off. I want my fettucini.)

Any guesses at who he turned out to be?

EDIT, 10/17: Karyn was the first to guess correctly -- it was Richard Simmons.

One more bit of trivia about Gig Young. He was the first actor cast to play the Waco Kid in Blazing Saddles. However, he was replaced with Gene Wilder when he kept showing up to the set with DTs.

Friday, October 14, 2011


While on Twitter the other night, I saw that someone had posted a link they found in "Kink-Aware Professionals." So I checked it out, and found this.

Spanking For Wellness

Go ahead. Go read for a while. I'll wait. You don't have to read it all; I recommend scanning Who We Are and Services.

So. What was your instinctive reaction? Mine was horror. And I'm not really sure why.

Reading through it, it sounds quite legitimate and non-exploitive. Spanking used as therapy. Pretty much like what we've talked about many times in the various forums, about how spanking can induce catharsis, emotional release, tears, guilt purging. Increase endorphins and elevate moods, etc. So why does this sound creepy to me?

Maybe it's the New Age-y feel of it. The cheerful photos of flowers and a woman frolicking in the ocean. The descriptions of the man and woman who run this clinic, institute, whatever it is.

"Rev. Jenellen Fischer... is a Spiritual Counselor, Liturgical Singer, Reiki Master, Intuitive Empath, Energetic Healer, and a Sensual Shaman, utilizing sensual energy for the healing of geographic locations, people, and animals."

"Steve Karuna Maitri has been a Zen Buddhist practitioner...for more than a decade....[H]e combines mindfulness meditation, deep listening, spanking and massage to help his clients transform their lives and move forward on the path towards being whole."

I dunno... I never thought of spanking as a companion of aromatherapy and having my chakras cleaned. Does the arrangement of their spanking furniture have the proper feng shui? And how do you know when a geographic location is healed, anyway?

OK, suppose it's legitimate; a safe place to explore spanking as a form of therapy. But what about people like us, for which spanking is either discipline, erotic, or both? Under Services, they say the treatment is completely non-sexual. They go on to say that it's not about discipline or punishment. Then what is it, exactly?

I really don't see this working for people who are already spanking fetishists/enthusiasts, because it doesn't fulfill the fantasy aspect. And for people who aren't... why the hell would they choose to get spanked? Why not just have the feel-good stuff -- the massage, the listening, etc.? For someone who isn't into spanking, why would they subject themselves to pain and "being treated like a child" -- and pay for it, no less? (There is no mention anywhere on the site of the costs. I wonder what one shells out for this.)

Like I said, I'm not really sure why I'm so creeped out by this. So what do you guys think?

It's Friday/Chross day. I'm in a bit of a melancholy place today, feeling the empty ache of various losses. Maybe my chi needs realigning. Or maybe I just need a warm hug and a kiss from John and a damn good spanking from ST. Fortunately, neither one of them is going anywhere. My rocks of Gibraltar.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Well now... what have we here?

Yesterday in my bedroom, I caught sight of something peeking out from underneath the bed. I knelt down to take a look.

Well, looky here. Recognize this?

Not familiar? Hmmm.

Recognize it now?

Thought you might. It's ST's paddle, one he made with his own two hands. Not super-thick/thuddy like the frat style I hate, but it packs a wallop nonetheless.

So. Let's ponder upon how angelic I am. I could have kept quiet about this and let him wonder. Let him discover it's missing but not say a word. Perhaps he dropped it out of his bag somewhere. Perhaps there's been a rash of theft in Encino, a kinky burglary ring stealing spanking implements. Or perhaps I accidentally mistook it for a piece of scrap lumber (you know, those turn up in my bedroom all the time) and tossed it into John's fireplace.

But noooo. I am here admitting to the world that I found it, that I'm keeping it safe for him next Monday. I think I should be rewarded for my honesty. Don't you?

On another topic...

Feeling a bit blech today. Fallout from yesterday, I guess. On the plus side, I had a lovely lunch with Mija at Canter's Deli -- we sat for three hours and yakked away. But on the minus side, I feel like I lost a friend yesterday, due to circumstances completely beyond my control. Scene drama, one I'm not involved in, but a friend is, and I got unintentionally and unwillingly sucked into the vortex.

John said I did nothing wrong. I know, intellectually, that I didn't, but it feels like I did. I hate it when people are angry at me, won't talk to me. It kicks in all those old rejection/abandonment issues that have dogged me since the early days when my mother would punish me by ignoring me and refusing to speak to me. I'd chase after her and cry, begging her to talk to me. Stupid, stupid old crap. But it's real.

The down side of being involved in any community. Wherever there are people, there is drama. This is why I choose solitude so often.

Plus, John had a horrendous day at work yesterday and vented to me. Naturally, I wish I could fix things and make it all better for him, and I can't. I hate that he's so stressed out. But I remembered this morning that this time last year, he was deathly ill, and now, at least he is healthy and robust, albeit exhausted. Perspective. Could be worse.

Days like this, I really do wish I had some work to do. Occupy my nattering brain on something productive.

Sorry for meandering. I will feel better after I go kick some butt at the gym. It's about 100 degrees outside... at least my A/C is working.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Squirming in my chair

Not a complaint, mind you. Just an observation. I feel like I sat on a beehive. Not that I've ever actually done that, but I imagine the sensation is similar.

ST was fully recovered and then some, which is good. We had a missing week to make up for, after all. He even came over earlier, since he'd had the day off.

I was wearing a denim dress and he commented on how thick it was. "What's your point?" I said. "Like it matters? You'll be lifting it in about five seconds anyway."

"Last time, I spanked you for a long time over your jeans," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and you started with implements, no warmup," I reminded him. He suggested that perhaps we should do that this time as well. I said perhaps we shouldn't.

So I got a niiiiiiiiiice long hand warmup, which is probably why, yet again, I haven't a mark on me, even though he outdid himself when we finally broke out the toys.

My smartassery was on the minimal side tonight. I'd missed him. I just wanted to feel and enjoy, immerse myself in the sweetest pain. No tears this evening. Just sheer endorphins and feeling my skin come alive under his hands and implements. Mostly leather, thank you.

Already faded, as usual. I am a freak. A happy one, though.

Couple more items on tonight's agenda. First, Mija posted a lovely review of my book on her blog, and also posted it on Amazon. Thank you, sweetie!

And second: Raven tagged me, asking me to post my all-time favorite spanking picture. I do have one in mind; however, I have no clue where to find it! Arrrgh. I know I've seen it at least a dozen times over the years, and now that I want it, I can't find it. Perhaps if I describe it, someone will know where it can be found. It's a post-spanking photo of a woman lying on a bed, curled up on her side with her back to the camera. She's wearing blue jeans, and they're pulled down to just below her bottom. You can't see her face at all, but the way she's kind of semi-fetal is poignant and you can imagine that she's crying a bit. Ring any bells? It's a lovely shot, lighting and all. I think she's wearing a striped shirt too, but can't recall that for certain.

Anyway... I am peacefully drowsy. Time for a little TV and then sleep, sprawled out on my belly. OK, so that's the way I normally sleep, but sometimes there's no choice in the matter. :-)

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Weekend tidbits

It was a fun belated-birthday weekend with John. Last night we went to one of our old favorite restaurants and had a fabulous meal (and John had a 22-ounce Fisher Amber Ale, which made him a bit tipsy). Then we went to our all-time favorite coffeehouse for that famous German chocolate cake I've mentioned a few dozen times.

What luck -- they had one piece left! They have shelves and shelves of spectacular treats, but still, the German chocolate cake is special. So we took our giant slab of cake and our coffees into the bookstore area. Upon sitting at a table, we noticed a small bulletin board on the wall near the New Age-y bookstore's doorway. Above it was a sign reading: "Have you recently done something for the very first time? If so, what was it? Tell us!" Slips of paper, a pen and thumbtacks were provided.

We read some of the slips that were already tacked up. "Today I went on a tour of a college for the first time." "Just tried Indian food." "Tried the chocolate peanut butter cake." "I planted some legume seeds." "I nursed a sick cat."

YAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNNNNNN! Really? These are the best firsts people could come up with?

John said, "Oh, you really need to shake things up a little. Write something about one of your recent shoots." At first I demurred, but he kept goading me, then grabbed one of the sheets and the pen and plunked it down in front of me.

Blame it on the massive sugar rush. I wrote, "Last week, I cried on camera for the first time at a professional spanking video shoot. It was really intense... and fun." And I tacked it up among the others.

Yes, I'm so mature. We sat at our table, giggling like kids. Every time we'd calm down and start talking, John would glance over at the board and we'd start snickering again. I wonder how long my note will remain up there.

In other news: ST is recovered and ready for tomorrow. He'll be over earlier than usual, since he has the day off. I too am fully recovered and looking forward to seeing him!

One of the videos I shot for Sarah Gregory and Paul last January is now up on her site. It's called Reading, Writing and Rulers, and you can see the synopsis and some photos on her home page here. Sarah is the Student From Hell and I am her teacher. Paul is the old-fashioned principal who pops his cork when he overhears us arguing in the classroom.

I now have nine 5-star reviews for my book on Amazon! :-D  This is so cool -- thank you, my reviewers!  Please please please... if you have read my book and you like it, please do stop by the Amazon page and write a little something. Every review helps its marketing appeal. And thank you again to those who have featured it on their blogs as well.

Guess that's it for tonight. Oh, and happy birthday to John Lennon, who would have been 71 today.

Friday, October 7, 2011

A quickie before I go

I am just about out the door, heading for John's to enjoy his belated birthday celebration, with a Tupperware full of from-scratch brownies in tow.

But first, speaking of birthdays...

Happy birthday (Saturday) to Pink!

Hope it's a spectacular one for you, darlin'. :-D

And have a great weekend, y'all.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Interesting question

While wandering through the blogosphere last night, I happened upon a post by Ronnie about watching ourselves being spanked in a mirror. She asked if bottoms have done so and how they feel about it. I commented that I don't like it; it makes me squirmy and I want to duck my head or close my eyes. Ronnie then asked me if I was happy to watch my spanking videos with other people. I thought I'd reply to that here, rather than hijacking her blog.

Watching myself on video with others is a whole different ball game from when I'm watching by myself. The nifty catch-all answer is "It depends on the video, and who is watching with me." But that's not very satisfying, is it.

I realize this seems like a topic restricted to the "pros," but really, it isn't. Not in this age of Spanking Tube and Clips 4 Sale and the plethora of amateur content out there. Any spankos can turn on a cell phone or a video camera and then put the results up on the Net. So for anyone who has done this, do you watch yourself with others present? How does it feel for you?

My reactions are mixed; there are parts I enjoy. Believe it or not, what I like most is my sass and zingers -- watching/hearing those with others present makes me giggle. I love their reactions, their shocked gasps. "Oh, you did NOT just say that." It's fun. And I do like the wide-angle action shots, because they look lively and showcase both the top and the bottom (me).

What do I hate? I'm sure you know where this is going. Yup... the close-ups. The "money shots." I know in porn, that term means something else entirely, but in spanking video, it's the peekaboo shots. The straight-on camera angle that makes me feel like I'm in a gynecologist's/proctologist's office. Come on, y'all. Shoot a little off to the side, will ya? If I'm watching with gal pals, I'm especially squirmy during those moments. I mean, I don't think my girlfriends want to know me that intimately. If I'm watching with John or someone I've played with, I figured they've seen it all anyway. But still... it's weird to watch. Let's be honest; some people's privates are prettier than others'. I don't happen to think mine are.

Being thin and compact has its disadvantages in this instance. I can slam my legs tightly closed and keep them that way, and it won't matter. Everything still shows. Yeeeesh.

Silly things will make me feel self-conscious. I will often kick wildly on camera, and once, when watching Stand Corrected with a friend, she commented that I looked like I was swimming. Whenever my kicking got particularly vigorous, she'd laugh and say, "Swim, Erica, swim!" I know she meant absolutely no ridicule with that, but it felt a little uncomfortable nonetheless. Not sure why.

I have to remember that I'm the only one watching who is picking my body and face apart. Others are seeing me overall and enjoying the performance.

I wrote about this in my book, but it fits in perfectly here: That uber-surreal moment when I was watching Spank Thy Neighbor for the first time, with my co-star on my left and John on my right... and that scene came on. OhhhhKay. I could hear Ralph trying not to chuckle, and John huffing "Well, now." When we filmed that, I shut out the cameras and disappeared into my head. But watching it, there was no place for me to go! :-D

So, the answer to Ronnie's question is the ever-popular Yes and No. It's exciting and titillating in part, but a bit skeevy in others. Of course, in my case, it's not that much of an issue. It's not I like I have people over every day to watch my video library. I'm simply not that social. :-)

Monday, October 3, 2011

Birthday greetings

No ST tonight after all; he didn't feel well. I suppose if I had to skip a Monday with him, it worked out well that it's a Monday after an intense thrashing on Saturday. But I missed him anyway. Feel better soon, sweetie.

Since I can't do a scene writeup, I'm going to take this time to wish a happy birthday to two wonderful men.

First up -- tomorrow, October 4, is Danny Chrighton's birthday. Wish I could see him and give him a big birthday hug and a smooch (and take his birthday spanking). So many fond memories... like here, the two of us being silly:

And of course, I can't let any birthday of his go by without trotting this one back out... :-D

(snickering) Ah, good times. Happy birthday, darlin'. Is there such a thing as a bacon birthday cake?

And the next day, October 5, is none other than my beloved's birthday.

I won't see him until Friday, but we'll celebrate this weekend. Already planning to take him to one of our favorite restaurants and bake him his favorite scratch brownies. :-)  He never lets me buy him presents, so I have to get creative. Attention on him makes John uncomfortable (a trait his girlfriend does not share). One time I had a big bunch of balloons delivered to his office, figuring everyone would see and then make a fuss over him. He told me, "That was so sweet of you, thank you and I love you. Now please, promise me you'll never do that again." (sigh)

When Danny lived here, we'd have a double b-day celebration. Damn, I miss that crazy man.

Who else has an October birthday? (I know at least one other person...)

Love you guys! Enjoy your special days.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Erica repents in Spanking Court

Yes, you're reading that correctly. (Make yourselves comfortable; this is long.)

It may be a while before the scenes I shot yesterday will be up on the Spanking Court site, because they have so many in reserve, especially after their weekend at the Tampa Tanners party. And I am dying to talk about the shoot. So... I will do my best to share some details, without giving it all away.

I was so eager to see everyone again, as it had been three months. The two scenes I was to shoot had this basic outline: Since the Court Disciplinarian and I had been at odds, I would be complaining about him to the Judge, who would bring V in to tell his side of things. We'd have another session, in which I'd be even more obnoxious than before. After that, V would haul ME in front of the Judge, who would then finally figure out that I'm the troublemaker. He'd assign a much stricter sentence... and in an unprecedented move, he'd sit in on the punishment to watch. Yikes!

I got there a little bit before 2:00, and they were all in the conference room eating lunch. Big hugs all around, one after the other. I was a little disappointed; I had been hoping to meet Alex (JustAlex on FetLife), as I knew she'd shot earlier. But unfortunately, she had to leave. You can read all about her shoot here. She broke one of their paddles, bless her heart. :-)

Sat and chatted with everyone, got my makeup put on. I couldn't resist giving V a hard time, as I hadn't heard from him in a long time. He and Dana have been extremely busy since their move and I wasn't really mad, but I was needling him anyway, saying he didn't wish me a Happy Birthday. After all, Dana did! He asked me if I'd like a birthday spanking right now, but I just told him to shut up and stuck my tongue out at him. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but you know, I can't help myself.

Then it was time to shoot. We filmed the first courtroom scene, which started with just me stating all my complaints, then a "recess," then V joining us and telling his side. V said that while I was polite and poised in Court, I was a completely different personality in the sentencing room. At this point, the Judge didn't really know who or what to believe, so he ordered another session and admonished both of us.

I got into the scrubs -- great news! They'd gotten new ones; instead of that hideous Prison Orange, these were light blue. Much more flattering color, IMO. This session was to be 150 with a leather strap. Of course, more sparks flew between the Disciplinarian and me, and toward the end, I'm afraid I called him a name that wasn't very nice. (Dana and Cali said they almost choked, holding back their laughter.) Those 150 strap strokes were rather fierce, but afterward, Dana came over and was waxing incredulous about how I was merely overall pink, like I'd just received a hand spanking.

We all took a break and I changed into my second outfit. The fact that I rarely mark was advantageous in this case, because now I could shoot my next scene and wouldn't look like I just did one. There was a lot of chatting and laughing, as always, and, aside from one more person doing a brief scene later in the afternoon, I was it for the day. So we took our time a bit, which was relaxing.

Then it was Reckoning Time. In front of the Judge, I waited for the Disciplinarian to tell what I'd called him. But he didn't.

No, he made me tell it. Said he didn't want to repeat it, out of respect for the Court, and suggested to the Judge that he ask me. I sort of hemmed and hawed and started to make excuses, but the Judge interrupted my back-pedaling and demanded that I come right out and say it. What else could I do?

Well, of course, the Judge was ticked off. I tried to plead and protest, but he would have none of it. I was sentenced to 200 with a wooden paddle -- and he'd sit in and watch, so he could see for himself exactly what was going on.

Uh oh. Clearly, I was toast.

After we finished that scene and the cameras stopped rolling, Heinz commented to me, "OK, in this next session, you'll need to start being a bit contrite."

I knew exactly what he meant -- it was transition time. I'd gone as far as I could go with the sass and baiting. The battle of wills between V and me, fun as it was, couldn't continue indefinitely. The Court had to regain full control and credibility; I'd wrought enough havoc and now it was time to pay. And my demeanor needed to reflect that.

I thought about it, tried to transfer my head space from feisty to compliant. We all talked about it for a few minutes just before we shot that final scene. It was decided that I'd try to mind my manners and be respectful, but of course, about a quarter to a third of the way through, I'd have a snippy outburst. The Judge would then see that V had been telling the truth, and he'd order more intensity for the remainder. V, who would start with a lighter, thinner paddle, would replace that with a heavier one. (gulp) The exact type I say no to, usually. But this time, I wanted it. I knew I'd need to be pushed, if I was going to achieve the right attitude.

So we began. The lighter paddle stung a lot, but the impact wasn't bad. I started out angry and resentful, but trying to hide it... and failing miserably. I don't remember which stroke we were on -- 30? 50? -- when I mouthed off, but the Judge gave me a sound lecture and then instructed V to switch up to the heavy paddle.

I admit it. When that first stroke hit me with a solid, dull THUNK, I had a split-second of panic. Omigod. I have to go to 200 with this?? Holy crap. I hunkered down, braced myself, lost my awareness of everyone around me and went deep into my head.

Sometimes when I'm scening, on camera or off, I have an internal dialogue going with myself, especially when I'm struggling. I thought to myself, "Can I really do this? God, it hurts... can I?"

And from deep within, I sensed the answer. You can. You want to. You will.

Mind over matter. Endorphins over pain. I was in a groove and the count kept going. And going. Steadily and hard. And somehow, it became real. Hard to explain, but it was. I forgot the cameras.

Breathe, Erica.

Somewhere around 100, I begged the Judge to have V go back to the original paddle. He refused.

I lost all desire to sass and be snarky. I stopped fighting the pain and rode it.

Then, around 150, that inner dialogue came up again, out of nowhere.

Embrace this. Experience it fully. This may be the last time you're here.

That was most likely true. After all, we had gone as far as we could go with this scenario, right? It had been so much fun, I adored these people, but now, given the nature of this scene, this was probably the grand finale.

I rarely cry from spanking pain alone, both because I like it and because I'm too stubborn. But throw an emotion into the mix? Waterworks.

I cried when ST and I did that punishment scene that he taped earlier this year. But I've never cried on camera at a professional shoot before. Not even close. Until yesterday. Don't remember when it started, but I think it was somewhere between 150-170. And I wept my way through the remainder. I believe around 180, I blurted repeatedly that I was sorry.

Damn. Not sure how I'd gone there, but it was real and I'm glad I did.

The hardest part was afterward, I think. I didn't have the luxury of just lying there on the bench, closing my eyes and burying my face. I had to get up, my legs rubbery. People came to me one by one, hugging me, asking if I was all right. I quickly regained my humor -- when Heinz hugged me, telling me what a good job I'd done, I said, my voice cracking with tears, "So, was that contrite enough for you?" He laughed.

V stood by, watching me, his face mildly shell-shocked, as in "wow, did we just do that??" I went and hugged him tight.

I cleaned up and got dressed, but I didn't feel like leaving. My limbs were heavy and my brain felt waterlogged. Cali told me I was welcome to hang out, so I lay on the little couch outside of the courtroom and spaced out while they were in there shooting Lisa's court scene.

A few minutes later, the door opened once again and Lisa went to change into the scrubs. Dana came out, glanced over at me, then called back in, "So Heinz, what do we have, about 54 seconds before we shoot the next scene?" Wha...? Fifty-four seconds? Did I hear that correctly, and if so, what the hell was she talking about?

Then V came out, walked over, grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "C'mon, Erica," he said, walking me back into the sentencing room. Fifty-four... oh, GAWD. Now I got it.

Sure enough, over his knee I went and down came my leggings. Everyone watched while he gave me a belated birthday spanking, cheering and calling out encouragement. As if he needed it! He made it into a sort of "This Is Your Life" -- "Sixteen! Now you could drive! Twenty-one! Now you could drink! Twenty-five! Now your car insurance premiums came down!" Oh, brother. And he wasn't patty-caking me, either.

And Dana, my long-lost sister, my friend? At the end, she piped up with, "You're probably going to forget her birthday next year too, so you might as well give her that spanking now too!" Thanks a lot, Missy!

It was just what I needed to lighten my mood back up, to make me laugh. Have I mentioned lately that I love these people?

I left for John's around 6:00, happy to be going to see him. We had a nice night; went to dinner and I told him all about the day. He'd had to take him mom out to lunch by himself, and he'd asked what excuse he should give for me. I said, tell her I'd had friends coming into town from out of state this weekend and I wanted to see them. Well, that was true, wasn't it?

So, after 150 strap strokes and 200 with a wooden paddle, all with no warm-ups, the million-dollar question is: Am I marked?

Barely. It's kind of scary. Just some very faint discoloration on the left cheek and a bit of marking on the right sweet spot.

Doesn't that mark on the right look like an M? For Miscreant, I guess. :-)

Might not look bad, but daaaamn, it's sore. All the way down through the muscle. I am so screwed when ST comes over tomorrow...