A new Cane-iac toy!

Before I begin with tonight's adventures, I want to take a moment to tell my friends in the Northeast that my heart is with you tonight. I have been hearing all kinds of scary reports and seeing horrible photos, and I know so many of you are without power. May you and yours all come through this nightmare safely.

Also, to everyone who commented or wrote to me privately regarding Friday's blog, thank you. I really don't like posting stuff like that, but I was feeling so very down that day and I needed to get it outside of my head. Later, as expected, John cheered me up a great deal and we had a nice weekend. Had a lovely dinner out Saturday night and saw Argo, which I highly recommend. And tonight, Mr. D helped me banish the last of the bad feelings.

I ordered a new OTK Russet Leather Strap from Cane-iac; I'd wanted a new leather toy, and I liked that this was short enough to use OTK. So tonight, Mr. D was the first to use it. Snappy thing, this is! It's not super thick, so it's more snap than thud (which I prefer), but it's quite a wicked snap. Lightweight, but you really feel it. Good coverage, too.

He used this, plus my Cane-iac Spanking Buddy and a couple of other toys, so I was quite squirmy and vocal (well, as vocal as I can be in my apartment).

The good folks at Cane-iac were generous enough to throw in another toy, their brand-new Curse of Dana OTK rubber paddle. Named for our beloved Dana Kane, this implement could be, by their own description on the website, "one of the most harsh and hurtful spanking tools we make." I confess, I really fear rubber. In some ways, it's even worse than wood. But I was game to try a few swats with it.

HOLYFREAKINGMOTHEROFGOD!!!!

I do not know how anyone can take more than a little of this one, honestly. I admit it, folks. This brings out my inner wimp. It's soooooooooooo painful. It's beautifully made and I would recommend it wholeheartedly for those who are into heavy play (VBB, I'm talkin' to you), but it's a bit too much for me.

We had our first minor glitch with tonight's scene -- the OTK leather strap wrapped a bit, and I was feeling so emotional already, I burst into tears and sobbed my way through the rest of the scene. Even through the belt, which I loved. Mr. D read the interview I did last week and saw that the belt is my favorite, so he brought a nice, well-worn one tonight. That was another first for us; I really did love it, but by then, I simply could not stop crying. It was such a strange contradiction; despite the tears and the pain, I was half out of my mind with arousal and I couldn't think straight or communicate properly, so I just wept and shook all over, and hunkered down for more. I could hear Mr. D's voice, soothing me, but all I could do was nod my head slightly to acknowledge his words.

Guess I had a lot of pent-up emotion to unload. Big surprise there.

But I really did love the belt.

I don't know how long I cried. I soaked the bedspread under my face, and when Mr. D gathered me close, I wept all over him. I knew my makeup was everywhere and I didn't care. Funny thing... usually, when I cry, I hide my face, duck my head, look away. I don't want to be seen. But he says, "Look at me," and I do.

Later, he asked if I'd like to go out for a bite to eat. But I wasn't ready to face the outside world yet. Plus, I was so completely sapped of energy, I didn't want to move. He understood. Pulled the comforter over me and told me to stay right where I was.

After a while, my mood lightened. I felt the brick ease off my chest once again. Amazing what this does for me, every time. It felt good to laugh and be silly, after that torrent of emotion.

We had some fun on FetLife too. I got him to fill out his profile, add some more fetishes and a couple of more pictures. He isn't posting his face, but ladies, I think you'll like the torso/chest shot! :-D 

"I know a lot of people have let you down," he said, "but I'm going to be one of the handful of people who won't. You need to believe that. I'm going to spank it into you until you believe it."

I want to believe it, Mr. D. Please be patient with me, give me time. Time is our friend. I already trust you... it just takes me longer to trust that you won't go away. You know it isn't personal. It's just me.

Thank you. ♥ And thank you, Cane-iac!

Fuck you, depression

I hate how you never really go away. You just lie dormant, waiting for that vulnerable moment, that chink in the armor. And then you attack, full bore with the negative thoughts, the anger turned inward, the tears and the downward spiral. I hate how I'm always going to have you within me. You're like herpes of the soul.

It's been a time of ups and downs, but yesterday, I felt quite fine. And then a stupid, insignificant slight happened, and I guess that was the proverbial straw.

I'm tired, y'all. Of so damn many things, all of which I can't control.

I'm tired of worrying about everything. It's exhausting. I'm tired of worrying about money and the cost of everything. About John's health. About a million things that haven't happened yet, that may very well not happen, but they might.

I'm so tired of this damned election, I could scream. I'm sick of the ugliness, the anger, the fear-mongering. The incredible ignorance, the racism, the stupidity. Of @#$%ing idiots claiming that babies born of rape are a "gift from God." Last week, in an effort to allay my anxiety, Mr. D said, "You know, no matter who wins, we still live in the best country in the world." I'm not so sure. This is a country where people don't recognize a photo of Albert Einstein, but they sure as hell recognize one of Honey Boo Boo. Where people can't spell the simplest of words, or use an apostrophe properly.

I'm tired of the social media that I'm so damned addicted to. Every day I see more and more stupid, petty crap, and yet I keep going back. And it doesn't help that I am constantly bombarded with photos, tweets, comments and reports about the latest spanking party I can't attend. Last week it was the World Spanking Party, this weekend it's Crimson Moon. How the @#$% do people afford to go to each and every one of these things?? They cost a fortune! I understand that, for the models, it's a working weekend and they make up for the cost with shoots and sessions. But what about everyone else? I miss my friends. I miss that camaraderie. I know it's childish, but when I read all that stuff, I'm back to that insecure kid on the periphery of everything, longing to be on the inside.

And yet, on the flip side, I'm burned out on people. I want to push everyone away and retreat to a quiet island. Which is ridiculous, because of course then I'd start craving attention. But sometimes, aside from John, I really don't know whom to believe in. People love you... until they don't. Until someone/something better comes along. Until your humanity shows, your vulnerability, your need. Best not to need anyone at all.

I'm tired of ME. I'm my own worst enemy.

Last weekend, John and I were driving to his sister's restaurant in the canyon. Parking there can be a challenge, since there are limited spaces, and the locals use them for long-term parking, even though they're not supposed to. So, when we get there and there's no place to park, it's a huge pain, because we have to drive a long way to get to an area where we can park on the street. And because the canyon roads are very narrow, it's difficult to turn around; especially for me, because I have poor depth perception.

So anyway, no parking spaces, and when I tried to turn around, it took three attempts and cars were coming and I got really frustrated, blurting, "Arrrrgghhh... I hate this place!" John remarked, "You hate too many things."

He's right. I do. I'm angry. And because I can't seem to get a handle on it, I turn it inward. Presto -- depression.

This too shall pass. I will go to John's tonight, have a change of scenery, have some camaderie and comfort. But for now, this is where I am. Sorry, y'all. Can't entertain, can't post Chross-worthy fun stuff. It's just not there.

I have some work to do. Perhaps I should go do it. Hope everyone has a good weekend. Wishing all the best to those who may be in the path of Hurricane Sandy. Sheesh, even Mother Nature is pissed off.

Interview with "Someone's Gonna Get It"

When Andy from the "Someone's Gonna Get It" blog wrote to me and requested an interview, my first thought was, "What could I possibly say that I haven't said 15 times before? People will yawn." But then I remembered that there are always new readers coming along, and there's always going to be some little nugget of information I haven't shared before.

Besides, how could I resist someone who called me lovable and spankable? (click on the red phrase for the interview)

I had sent him a few pictures, also giving him the OK to take some others from my blog if he so desired. He found some I'd completely forgotten about, including a really goofy one from last Christmas. You'll no doubt recognize some of the others in the photos: Sarah Gregory, Pixie, Richard Windsor, "Tubaman" Paul, and Danny Chrighton.

Thank you very much, Andy. :-D

In other news, my dentist couldn't find a blessed thing wrong with my tooth. He poked and prodded, took x-rays, blew air in there, but detected nothing. So he sent me home with Sensodyne toothpaste and told me to use that for a month. Weird. Maybe I just aggravated a nerve or something. In any case, I'm greatly relieved. Not only am I terrified of dental work, but I'm rather terrified of how much $$$$$ it costs, too.

And I'm still marked and sore from Monday, thankyouverymuch.

Hope everyone's having a good week so far.

Two-part blog tonight (Thank you, Bonnie!)

Part One: A Woman's Place is in Her Binder

Well, this kind of binder, anyway. :-)

Yes, we had some fun with politics tonight. He teased me by saying that my bottom would need a nice thick binder. I beg your pardon?? I snapped back that if we collected all of his wit and wisdom, it would fit in the world's thinnest binder.

I knew I'd pay for that. It was worth it. :-)

Anyway, after the OTK warmup, we proceeded to the bedroom where he decided to "bind" me. What he didn't count on was my itty-bitty wrists. As he was whaling away, I felt my hands slipping slightly through the restraints. Calculating the slack, I thought, yeah, go for it. So, with one sudden movement, I yanked both hands free. And laughed my freaking head off.

"Oh, that is never, EVER going to happen again," he growled, pulling my hands back into the restraints and securing them tighter. Not uncomfortably so, though. But I couldn't move my arms or legs; all I could do was wriggle. I was doing plenty of that by the end. The leather Spanking Buddy, a leather paddle, a wooden paddle, a Lexan paddle, and a riding crop. Ow. Oh, and his hand, which has become rather formidable.

I thought for sure I wasn't going to weep this time. I felt spacy and euphoric, but I didn't sense tears. That is, of course, until he started whispering the sweet words to me as he freed my arms and legs. "I'm here for you... I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. I'll take care of you." That just makes me go to pieces. He knows it, too.

I didn't feel sad; only like I was being cleansed from the inside out. He wiped my tears, stroked my hair, held me close. It was a long time before my breathing settled and I could speak coherently. "Welcome back, baby," he smiled.

We talked and relaxed for a long time, but naturally I started getting mouthy again. "I think you need some more," he said. "I think you need to go back over my knee."

"If you insist," I sighed. "But can I go to the bathroom first?"

He pinned me down. "Now why should I let you go to the bathroom?"

"Uh, 'cause I might pee on you if you don't?"

He laughed and continued to hold me down, so I reached around... and slapped him on the butt. Oh, man, what a mistake.

"What was THAT?? Who's the top here? What did you just do??" Um...

"Never mind. Yeah, you'd BETTER go to the bathroom. Because when you come back, I'm really going to let you have it."

Promise? :-)

He meant it. All those damned toys all over again (except for the crop), and hard. I started out laughing and still sassing him -- he was positioning my legs, moving them up on the bed, then down on the floor, so I suggested that he stop flip-flopping. ;-) OK, that did it.

"Got anything to say now?" he asked. No. Not really. Except "please, please stop." And "Ow." He knew I was done when I slumped onto the bed, going limp, my legs collapsing, whereas before they had been rigid and kicking. Slipping out from under me, he bade me to stay there so he could get the camera.

Erica is toast.

Happy toast.

I really, really missed him last week. And no, we did not watch the debate tonight. He recorded it so he could watch it when he went home. I am so over this election. I just want it done with already.

Thank you, Mr. D. I wonder if you have any idea how good you are for me.

And now, Part Two:

Thank You, Bonnie!

Tomorrow, 10/23, is "Bonnie Appreciation Day." Of course, we all know Bonnie of My Bottom Smarts.

To our Blogging Queen: Thank you for all you have done and continued to do for the Spanko Blogosphere. Years ago, you were the first to link to me on your blog roll, and I've loved you ever since. ♥ I'm grateful to you, enjoy your posts, and hope you'll keep blogging forever!

OK. I think it's time for some chocolate, Jay Leno's Headlines, and then a sweet slip into a comatose sleep. Tomorrow I'm going to the dentist to see why my tooth is hurting. But tonight, screw it. I'm eating chocolate anyway! :-)

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/19

It's quite obvious that I missed my spanking session this week. I am in one of those feisty, don't-@#$%-with-me moods. So what better time than to write up one of these?

This is from a 22-year-old. I am exactly 2 1/2 times his age; scary. I don't get it! When I was 22, an "older man" was 30.

hey maybe u can show me a thing or two?

Okie dokie -- here are a couple of things. 1. the correct way to spell "u" is y-o-u; 2. here's one of my favorite sweatshirts. It's got "Beatlefest '81" printed on it. Which means I have clothing older than you.

Hello Ma'am,
i hope you are interested in an online slave for a nice talk or try to force me to do things on cam i never did before

(head to desk) All right, young man. Here's your first order. Read my fucking profile. You know, all the parts where I talk about being a bottom?

u r abad girl and u must have apunishment
come on baby

Well, u r somewhat correct: I AM abad girl and I do need apunishment. But not from amoron.

And really, would it be a CHoS without the requisite age reference?

Lady for 55 you have the best damn ass Ive ever seen. Come live with me and let me stroke and spank that ass for the rest of our lives!!!

Honey, if I came to live with you, the rest of our lives would be very brief indeed. Trust me on this one.

And while we're on the topic of idiocy -- some of you may be watching me engage on FetLife, on one of the most disgusting threads ever. Let me make something clear. I fully realize that some people fetishize body odors. I am not judging that fetish. You want to smell my underarms, you enjoy a woman's sexual scent? Fine! But I draw the line at being OTK and having a man announce that I smell like cheese. I would: 1) shower for the next three hours; and 2) kick his nose so far into the back of his head, he'd never smell anything again.

Switching gears to end on a pleasing note: Today (if the notification on Facebook is accurate) is Pink's birthday! Happy birthday, honey! :-)

Have a great weekend, y'all.

The voice of reason??

Believe it or not, those words have been used to describe me on more than one occasion. Me?? I dunno. On the one hand, I think I'm far too opinionated sometimes to be considered reasonable. But on the other, I detest arguing, and I know that the written media lack nuance, voice inflection and so forth, so I try for the most part to soften my harsher words and be tactful.

Unless, of course, I'm dealing with a complete fucktard. Then I don't bother. :-)

Social media can be wonderful. Sites such as Twitter, Facebook, FetLife, etc., keep us in touch with loved ones, connect us with new, like-minded friends and can be extremely validating. However, there are pitfalls. One of them is that rarely does a day go by when I don't have an overwhelming urge to type, "Oh, shut UP, stupid" to some complete stranger.

I realize that scene preferences vary (understatement of the year, there) and that at times, people state their opinions as if they were facts. Not much can be done about that. But sometimes I see such drivel (yes, the word is drivel, not dribble, for @#$%'s sake), I cringe to think that newbies are reading it. This is when I feel the need to speak up.

On FetLife today, there was a thread where a male top posted about spanking parties. In a nutshell, he loves them, but his sub does not. She doesn't like the idea of being spanked publicly; she thinks it's an intimate activity. Perfectly reasonable. Said top stated that he realized he can't force her to do it (good for him), but he wishes she would change her mind. He asked the forum's bottoms for their own thoughts/experiences on parties and if their play preferences had changed after going to them.

He got many sensible replies. And then there was this:

Spanking is about humiliation so you should make do it with her legs apart so she has no privacy. If she feels bothered you should set an example by getting naked as well.

Way to be helpful, guy.

First, any time you hear or read anything that starts with "Spanking is about...," stop listening from that point on. Blanket statements like those tend to pop out of the mouths of idiots. Spanking is about many things, to many different people, and you cannot speak for everyone (nor can you even imply that you're doing so). Sure, we all have opinions, and yes, for some, spanking is about humiliation. Whenever I'm stating a preference, I try to make damn sure it is indeed stated as my own preference. For example, you've all heard me say, "Spanking, for me, is M/F." For me, that is what computes in my kinky little brain. I'm not saying that's what it is, period. That would be awfully presumptuous of me.

Second, you're realllllly treading on dangerous ground when you advocate forcing your bottom to endure public humiliation. Um... limits? Negotiations? Newbies... if you ever come up against a top who wants to so blatantly ignore your fears or limits, listen to that inner voice we're all blessed with and run, don't walk.

Yeah, yeah, I know there's that whole can of worms about D/s and protocols and how much power a dom has over a sub and all that. This question was about spanking parties, which are more generally about fun, not making your sub/bottom utterly miserable. So, to Mr. Humiliation/Spread Her Legs, I say oh, shut UP, jackass.

Thank you; I feel better now. :-)

On a completely different note: Our friend and fellow blogger Poppy seems to have disappeared. Her blog is gone and so is her Twitter account. Do any of you know what's going on with her?

Woo hoo! I'm on Blushing Books!

Nope, no session post this week, kids. Mr. D's neighbor passed away over the weekend, and he is helping the family deal with contents of the house and so forth. His head is not in play mode, and I totally get that. I'm relieved that the poor guy isn't in pain anymore, but I'm sorry Mr. D is mourning the loss of a friend. I'll be glad to welcome him back next week. I guess as timing goes, it worked out. I'm feeling kind of weird anyway; my stomach is acting up. And I have a mild toothache. Trying to talk myself out of the latter, convince myself it isn't really there and I'm imagining things. I so don't want to go to the @#$%ing dentist. I keep messing with it, swishing cold water over it. Maybe if I keep doing that, it will get desensitized! (yeah, right...)

Meanwhile, as some of you already know, I have some fun news: Late Bloomer is now on the Blushing Books site! It's lovely to be in contact and collaborating with Bethany again. I think BB will be re-releasing What Happens to Naughty Girls? too, which would be great, since for whatever reason, it's not on Amazon anymore (although Late Bloomer still is). Frankly, I'm confused as to how the whole online book distribution thing works these days, which is why I'm glad I'm in good hands. I'm hoping this extra exposure will give my sales a boost.

I'm still thinking about writing a purely fiction kink book. Problem is, everyone and their mother is doing the same thing right now. I'd have to make sure I did something reasonably original. I'll have to think about it some more, I guess.

Thank you to everyone who commented on my last blog, or wrote to me privately. I honestly wasn't seeking reassurance, but you all gave me plenty of it and I appreciate it. And I like some of your ideas, too. Rest assured, I'm not going to change much of anything. You know how I hate change. It's good to know the rants and observations and stories are still welcome. And I probably will dwell into FetLife's annoyances more. There is a great deal of humor and rant fodder there! Still love my friends there, though. :-)

One of my pals and I had synchronized head-banging-on-desk tonight when some kid wrote about all the lessons we need to be "tought" [sic] and how we wont [sic] be able to sit down. And then someone else came in from left field and said we weren't being nice, that spelling and grammar have nothing to do with someone's ability to spank. I beg to differ, I said. Do you really want to entrust your body to someone who can't communicate past a fourth-grade level? She wrote back, saying that he's a man, and most men can't spell.

Say WHAT??? Oh, my head. Hey, I may not be nice, but at least I didn't insult an entire gender.

Enough of this malarkey. ;-)  I may not have been spanked tonight, but I still need chocolate. And some Advil.

Putting it out there to my readers

Happy Friday, everyone. :-)

As I slowly but surely approach 500 posts here on Blogger (I'm at 478 now), I'm pondering about this blog and its purpose. So I thought I'd open the floor to readers and get some feedback. My blog hits have been low lately. Perhaps it's not just me (naturally, I think everything is about me!), but I do fret about these things.

The title says it all: This blog is about my life, my loves and my spankings, with the emphasis on the latter. If I wanted to write more about vanilla stuff, I'd write a vanilla blog. However, I wonder sometimes if I've covered everything there is to be said about my spanking life.

Yes, I continue to post of my weekly adventures, now with a new partner. But other than that? Between years and years of posting blogs (and posting on forums before that) and two books, I've related one hell of a lot of experiences, fantasies and not-so-humble opinions.

One of my biggest peeves on FetLife of late is the redundancy, the posting and discussing of the same freaking topics over and over and OVER. Even though the most popular topics are kept at the top of the thread as "stickies," people don't bother looking at those. Just last week, someone posted the "Does size matter?" question for the umpteenth time, and I lost it, commenting, "For the love of God, not this again! Read the @#$%ing stickies before you ask a question that's already been asked a million times." Amazingly, no one flamed me for that. The moderator ended up closing the thread. Perhaps he/she agreed with me. But I digress. My point is, I don't wish to become redundant. I don't want to repeat myself, tell the same damn stories over and over and bore people.

I used to post my Correspondence Hall of Shame regularly, which was a lot of fun. But I get less material for that these days. I used to post of wonderful shooting adventures, but sadly, those seem to have come to an end. Yes, I miss posting as a "spanking model." My 15 minutes went on to last 12 years and I am so grateful for that, but I'm sad as well. I post thorough party reports, but those are few and far between. My local spanking scene is woefully inadequate and we cannot afford to travel to all the good parties.

Please don't misunderstand me; I love blogging. I don't want to dwindle off or cease writing this blog; it's dear to me. However, I'm not sure what to blog about anymore. I'm struggling to find subjects. There are only so many parodies, so many spoofs, so many reviews, so many observations. What is it I can say that you haven't already heard? I want to keep things fresh. I don't want to be a relic, like the old actress in that Twilight Zone episode who holes up in her house and watches her young self in her films from years ago, living and reliving the past.

So here's where you guys can help me out. Is there anything you'd like for me to cover here, that I haven't already? Should I continue this blog as it is, with the sharing of play dates interspersed with life stuff? Or is there an unexplored direction that might be worth peeking into?

Just my thoughts on a semi-cool, cloudy Friday afternoon. Here I thought fall was finally here -- no such luck. By Sunday, it's going to be back up in the @#$%ing 90s here, and will stay that way all next week! BLECCCHHH!!

Yeah, I know. Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's one thing that will never change. :-)

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Back in my happy place

Amazing what a few hours of special attention can do for a woman. :-)

Mr. D returned yesterday. I had been struggling with my own neediness vs. knowing he was doing a very kind thing, taking care of his ailing neighbor. I tried to keep the whining on my blog to a minimum. But he knew.

So, yesterday afternoon and evening spun slowly out into a kaleidoscope of treats -- talking, spanking, bondage, cuddling, massage, watching a video, and comfort food at Jerry's Deli. It was like having my own personal day spa, but they don't have handsome tops at day spas. Not the ones I know of, anyway.

We talked for a long time, catching up. His neighbor is in 24-hour hospice now, and is shutting down. It is a matter of a few days now; very sad. Mr. D has been overseeing all aspects of his care, coordinating and communicating with his only family (a nephew), and I told him I admired him for it. I know I couldn't do it. I don't have that kind of unselfishness in me. He can feel very good about himself and his character over this.

We also discussed my recent blogs, and he was none too pleased about all my yammering about ageing. He said that I was ageless and beautiful (blushing), and he was going to make sure I understood that if he had to spank it into me until we're both 85. "I don't want to live that long," I retorted. "OK, 75," he replied. And it was about that time that we segued into some spanking action.

I know it had only been two weeks, but it had felt like at least a month if not more. I didn't even have my usual period of giggling and sassing; I slipped right into the pleasure zone almost immediately, absorbing the sweet pain and rising up for more. And can I just say that his hand has gotten much stronger? I kiddingly told him that he should practice by slapping a brick, and I do believe he did it! Erica Scott, the Hand Toughener.

When we moved to the bedroom, he was delighted at my new panties, claiming them "Baskin-Robbins panties." For those of you unfamiliar with the name, BR is an ice-cream store that's been around forever; it's also known as "31 Flavors." Here are the colorful panties (with some added color by Mr. D):

And here's one of the BR logo cups:

After a long spanking with his hand, Spanking Buddy and wooden paddle (ugh), Mr. D had me lie on the bed lengthwise, and he shackled my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. Already fairly zoned out, I began to tremble all over. This was the moment of trust. The moment I knew, somewhere in my foggy brain, that once those wristlets and anklets clicked into place, I was completely helpless. That I had to let go and trust that I was in safe hands.

And I was. Absolutely 100%.

Doesn't mean there wasn't pain, though! :-)

The good kind of pain, though, and the good kind of fear, bringing on a torrent of tears that I had to simply allow to flow into the pillow, because I could not wipe them away. Before I knew it, though, I was freed and gathered up into strong arms.

Later, he asked me what I'd like for dinner. I didn't even have to think about it. I wanted soup at Jerry's Deli. A gigantic steaming bowl of comfort food. So we went to Jerry's, where he had a pastrami sandwich and fries, and I got Mom food: Chicken matzo ball soup, with lots of chicken, carrots and noodles, and a huge matzo ball. I couldn't finish it all, so now I have dinner for tonight as well. Happy, happy me.

Back at my place, I showed him When Danny Met Erica, which got us both fired up to play some more. I was one hell of a lot more sensitive during Round Two, and he teased me about it. Oh well... considering how much crap I gave him about his hand, I certainly couldn't complain!

But was I feeling absolutely wonderful? You tell me:

But wait, there's still more. He then got some lotion and gave me a lovely backrub, working out the knots in my shoulders, massaging out the soreness in my glutes, and finishing with my feet.

What do you think, kids? Did we make up for lost time?

He assures me, again and again, that he gets every bit as much out of all this as I do. I can't imagine how that's possible, but I'm so glad he feels that way. He deserves it. He's a good man.

And I'm a lucky woman.

Nice review

Playing tomorrow, folks (I hope! Not taking anything for granted until it happens, lately). Meanwhile... there is a new book review site called We Love Our Books, and a friend (who prefers to remain nameless) has written a review of Late Bloomer, which can be found here.

It's a vanilla site, so the kink in the book is downplayed. Thank you to the writer for all the compliments. I particularly appreciate the mentions of my humor; that's always huge for me. :-)

Speaking of reviews, kids -- just a friendly reminder. My Late Bloomer Amazon page has 18 reviews up (and thank you again and again to those who contributed!), but more is always better in this case. Please, if you read the book and you liked it, stop by that page, rate it and write a little review for me? Pretty please? It doesn't take very long, it doesn't have to be very long, and every review helps.

The Fifty Shades parade continues. Every time I see a book display recently, there's a new book (or two or three) with a black cover, some sort of semi-sexy/kinky photo and a title along the lines of Bared to You, Hot in Handcuffs and Decadent. Lack of imagination, much? However, I do look forward to Law & Order: SVU's take on it -- you knew that was coming, didn't you? Apparently this Wednesday (Ripped From the Headlines!), an author of kinky fiction is doing more than just writing about erotic asphyxia. The TV clip shows a really creepy and sinister-looking dude smirking and saying to the woman off camera: "You need to be punished." Oooh! One of my buzzwords! Yes, I will be DVRing this one, because some rocket scientist at the networks moved L & O from 10 P.M. to 9 P.M. this year, where it now conflicts with Modern Family. I must have my Modern Family fix. You know, I'm old enough to remember the days before you could record anything from the television. They sucked.

Hope to have something realllly fun for you tomorrow night...

Birthday greetings!

Today (10/5) is John's birthday. He's at work right now, but I'll be seeing him this evening. Happy birthday to my sweetheart! No big plans for the weekend; John is my polar opposite when it comes to birthdays. He hates the fanfare and the attention, while I suck it all up eagerly and want more. I think I've told this story before, but it's classic John: Several years ago, I ordered a festive balloon bouquet to be delivered to him at his workplace. After the fact, he carefully said to me, "That was very sweet of you, and I appreciate it. Thank you, sweetie. Now please, never do anything like that again."

It's also rather challenging buying gifts for him, since he's much more into giving presents than getting them. So I tend to stick to the three tried-and-true things I know he'll always like: books, CDs (nope, he hasn't gotten on the mp3 bandwagon yet), and shirts. He loves Ernest Hemingway (he says I write like Hemingway; I seriously doubt that), so I got him a biography about the man's later life, which he spent much of on a beloved boat (and John is a sailing fanatic). I also got him some classical CDs. And I'll try buying him dinner, but he probably won't let me. (Yeah, I know. I should make him dinner. I should do a lot of things. Like learn how to enjoy cooking.)

Also, a belated greeting (from 10/4) to one of my favorite people ever, Danny Chrighton, my former play partner extraordinaire. A wonderful friend who saw right through me from the getgo, declaring that there was a soft center beneath my blustering and sarcastic exterior. While others say I'm strong, he was the first to call me fragile. He knew.

I miss you, D! I hope you had a huge slab of pecan pie and a bacon martini to celebrate.

For those who have been asking/wondering about Mr. D, I caught up with him today. His neighbor is now on 24-hour hospice at home. His mind is still sharp, but his body is slowly shutting down, so it's a matter of time. Very sad.

Regarding next week, he gave me a choice: a limited time on Monday, or a longer time on Tuesday. I chose Tuesday. But I'm afraid to get my hopes up and count on it. So I'll just say "we'll see."

To end on a happy note: Last night I was watching Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and they did a spoof of the Romney/Obama debate, with the focus of the spoof being Jim Lehrer's (the moderator) lame job of keeping control and enforcing the debate rules. So, this is completely non-partisan, I promise. But it made me laugh so hard, my stomach hurt. If you'd like to watch, it's here. (Warning: it IS a bit on the rude side.) Enjoy, and have a great weekend, y'all.

Interchangeable asses -- what a concept!

A couple of days ago, I saw a post in FetLife Classified Ads that made my brain explode. Yeah, yeah, yeah, no judging, people have their own kinks, blah blah blah. Shut up. Some things are just blecchhhhh.

In dire need of destroying a new slaves ass. Any anal whores wanting a sadistic ass master message me.

So, I pasted this charming tidbit into a Twitter post, adding, "Really, who could resist this?"

I got several tweets in response. This morning, I received this one from Spanking Blog:

"Anal whores with extra asses they want destroyed are flocking to him even as we type!"

I laughed out loud. Ha! Who's got spare asses lying around the house? Then my feverish brain started sparking.

What about it, bottoms? Professional spankees? Frequent party attendees? What if we all had extra bottoms, ones we could swap out when necessary? Consider the possibilities!

First, the most obvious. Played too hard? Burned yourself out on Friday night of a party weekend? Got several shoots in a row and your ass is grass after the first one? No problem! Simply whip out one of your extra bottoms, switch it out, and you're good to go!

But that's not all. These extra bottoms could come with myriad custom features. Playing with a top who likes a mini-butt? Use your Victoria Secret Model spare bottom. Top prefers a bit more padding? Easy. Use the J-Lo version. 

Playing with an Edward Sissyhands top? Whip out your Ultrasensitive bottom, which derives pleasure and stimulation from the wimpiest of swats. And for the tops with iron hands and paddles like boat oars? The Super Deluxe Kevlar.

And, without getting too graphic, we could even have versions with extra-strong, super-elastic back doors. You know, for those who enjoy playing hard back there, but don't want to be torn to shreds, or incontinent before they're 50. "Wait, honey! Don't lube up that Mas Grande plug just yet. Let me switch to the Porn-Star butt."

Oh, and of course, these spare bottoms would be self-exercising and toning. Having a bad ass day? Wanna rock that skin-tight new dress? Forget Spanx and control-top pantyhose! New ass, new you!

I really like this idea, folks. Would one of you inventor types get on it? It's the future of spanking! This spankee has just finished bottoming to an entire football team, brandishing every toy in the Cane-iac collection. But you'd never know it, not with her Interchangeable Ass!

I can see only one potential drawback to this invention. Whenever someone tells you to "haul ass," you'd have to make more than one trip.

Dear Hollywood: You Suck! (OT Rant)

Wow, another rant in under two weeks! Erica's on a roll! How come? Well, let's review. On Friday, John lost about half of his day off, dealing with issues with his mother. On Saturday, we went to visit my stepfather, who has aged about 10 years in a few weeks. And then today, Mr. D had to cancel because his sick neighbor went into the hospital and he didn't want to leave him. Totally understandable... but that doesn't mean I'm not so damned frustrated I could croak.

Who are the @#$%ing rocket scientists who decided that living longer is a good idea?? Argh.

Anyway, since I can't do a thing about any of this, I thought I'd blow off some steam over something unrelated, but incredibly maddening.

Last week, I happened to notice a link to an online article entitled "Worst Hollywood Kisses." Curious, I clicked on it. Turns out it was about celebrities caught making out by paparazzi, engaging in, and I quote, "gross PDA" (public displays of affection), the kind that made people want to yell "EWWWW! Get a room!" I believe the term "bad taste" was used as well.

So I went through the pictures. Granted, several of them were gross. Gene Simmons and his wife lapping at each other's tongues. Angelina Jolie sharing a passionate, full-on kiss... with her brother. And stars I've never heard of, looking like they were trying to suck each other's faces off, men grabbing at their women's boobs, etc.

And then there was this one.

Wait a minute... what? This is gross?? Are you kidding me? Jay Leno bestowing a respectful and tasteful hand kiss to Betty White, the Grande Dame of Hollywood, is gross PDA? Since when?

I love Betty White. Betty White is my hero. Ninety years old, and still fully active, even starring on a sitcom (and often upstaging her much-younger co-stars). Sharp as a tack. Betty White gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, growing old doesn't have to be a crapfest. And yet, this wonderful woman has to be added to such a tacky list? Why? Because she's old? What bad taste? Uhhhh... he's not playing tonsil hockey with her, for Christ's sake. He's kissing her hand.

But wait, there's more.

This one was also included in the "Worst Hollywood Kisses" list:

What, pray tell, is EWWW-worthy about this? It's a couple lying on the beach and kissing, reminiscent of the classic "From Here to Eternity" scene. Nothing is exposed, he's not groping her, they're just sharing a kiss. So why is it in included in the GROSS list? Because, as the article specifically mentioned, the photo is of 54-year-old Sharon Stone.

Funny how age wasn't mentioned in any of the other photos. The implication is clear: Shame on Sharon Stone; she's too damned OLD to be frolicking on a beach and engaging in public displays of affection. I guaran-damn-tee you that a picture of a young starlet couple doing the exact same thing wouldn't have made the list.

Hey, Mr. D, are you reading this? Now do you get why I think ageing blows? Because of crap like this. Everywhere. Guess what, Hollywood? I'm 55, and I kiss John in public all the time. Checkers in the market call us "lovebirds." People whistle at us from cars driving by. I like kissing him, and I'm going to continue kissing him, wherever I damn well please. And those of you who voted the above photos as gross, if you don't like it, y'all can take your ageist attitudes, fold them four ways (with sharp corners) and shove 'em where the sun don't shine.

Still feeling pissed off. Perhaps I'll wander over to FetLife and see if there's some Uber-Dom idiot who needs a new one. (grumble)