Celebrating Year One with Steve in Boot Camp

I can't believe it's been a whole year since Steve and I met for the first time. I was floundering around, feeling left adrift after things ended with ST, and Steve quietly slipped in and offered me a lifeboat. Granted, it was a lifeboat filled with all kinds of nasty oars, but still. ;-)

Yesterday was the day we'd designated as our celebration. He showed up, surprising me with pretty flowers and a card... and a new toy. Apparently, he'd been shopping around on Sunday, and happened to come across a large, thin wooden paddle, with one side covered with a rubber tread that looked exactly like the bottom of a man's boot. It was marked half-price, because they said it wasn't selling. Gee, I wonder why! Horrible @#$%ing thing that is! He told me I was going to be the first to experience it. Lucky, lucky me. OK, technically, the second, because he tested it on himself. Just a couple of strokes, though.

So we started the evening with a long OTK hand warm-up. Despite my joy over our special date, I was also dealing with a lot of vulnerable feelings and some insecurity issues, which I won't go into here. So I broke down and cried, just from the hand spanking. He paused briefly, but I wept, "Don't stop! Please don't stop." I wanted to feel. I wanted that sweet, cleansing pain, given with kindness and compassion. He delivered.

We decided to break there and go to dinner, since it was around 9:00. "And then," he said ominously, "we're going to Boot Camp." (gulp)

Dinner was lovely; we went to a local Japanese restaurant and had some nice treats. We were yapping so much that Steve got distracted. He was animatedly describing something, and as he did, he reached for the soy sauce to pour more into his dipping dish -- and he poured it into his glass of beer instead. I laughed so hard, the sushi chef across the room was looking over at us and grinning. (I do not have an indoor laugh, I'm afraid.) Our server got into it too, saying that's what happens when you drink too much. I said, "No, he's like this when he's sober, too." All through dinner, he kept giving me The Look and growling how he couldn't wait until Boot Camp. 

Back at my place, it was time. We agreed that, in the interest of getting a good picture of the paddle treads, we were going to do something similar to "thigh turkeys" -- one hard swat on each cheek, straight away. I thought, OK. It will be measured, it will be slow. I'll be prepared. I can do this.

"Let's take a before picture," he suggested, so here's that:

"Ready?" he said. I took a deep breath. "Yes."

Oh, @#$%ing ouch.

But of course, it didn't end with just two swats. Hardly. He alternated the sides, striking with the wooden side as well as the tread side. Because the paddle was thin, it didn't feel thuddy like those heavy frat paddles I hate, but man, did it sting and burn. He didn't do too much of it, going back to his hand for a while, then picking it up again for brief periods. That's all he used -- his hand and the Boot Camp. That was enough. I was literally biting the pillow at the end. But again, I welcomed it. I needed it.

He got a little artistic with a Sharpie, too:

 And here I am, messy haired and blissful, with my beautiful flowers:

Thank you, my wonderful top. Thank you for the emotional balance you bring to me, for the firm hand and the loving heart. For putting up with the yo-yo that is a spanking bottom sometimes. For having what's best for me at the center of all you do.

For not going away.

OT: An update on John

For those who have been kindly inquiring about John's health and about the latest with his heart issues, I thought I'd post an update. I haven't mentioned things with him lately, because I don't want to bog my readers down with too many details, or make this blog too dreary. So I will update now and then, just to catch y'all up. That sound OK?

I'll try to make a long and complicated story somewhat short. Essentially, John has three choices when it comes to his malfunctioning mitral valve: 

1. He can have it replaced with a hetero graft, better known as a pig valve. The plus on those is that they aren't rejected as often. The minus -- they don't last a lifetime. In another 12 years or so, John would need another transplant.

2. An artificial valve. The plus? They last forever. Minus? They are rejected more often, and the patient has to take blood thinners for the rest of his/her life. Which essentially turns them into a bleeder. Not ideal.

3. Mitral valve repair, in which a highly skilled doctor goes in and repairs/rebuilds the valve, instead of replacing it. Plus? No new part for the body to adjust to. Minus? Depending on the extent of the damage, they don't last as long as a replacement. For minor damage, they're ideal. But there are five levels of heart valve damage.

John is a four-and-a-half.

Also, his HMO is fighting him tooth and nail, because they'd much rather do the easier replacement job than the trickier (and more expensive) repair job. 

So John is in the middle of tests, consultations, second opinions, and dealing with the bureaucracy that is his HMO. It's a lengthy and stressful process. As it happens, he can't have heart surgery right now anyway. He is also in the middle of some necessary dental procedures, and his heart doctors have told him to have all dental work done before he even thinks about scheduling anything heart-wise. Tooth infections are notorious for spreading to heart patients. And John is infection prone. Always has been. Even a small growth he had cut off his ankle a couple of weeks ago got infected.

How is he? Holding up amazingly well, all things considered. He still exercises more than most people half his age. He still bikes on the weekends, albeit not the distances he used to. His arteries are as clear as a newborn's, his blood pressure is low. 

Of course, he is chronically tired. That's pretty much his state of being these days, because his heart has to work so hard to compensate for the valve, and it exhausts him. Last night after a nice dinner out, he fell asleep on the couch at 9:30 while we were watching TV, and stayed asleep until after midnight, when I shut off the TV and woke him so that he could get ready for bed. Yup... we're like a very old couple, these days. But that's just the way it has to be.

He still makes me laugh until I'm doubled over. He's still beautiful to look at. He frets about the scar he'll have from the surgery; I won't care a bit. I just want him to be well, to feel good.

At the end of next month, we will be together for 17 years. This weekend in the car, I had classical music on and he was humming along with the piece. Then he said, "Sweetie, did you ever think you'd have a boyfriend who appreciates classical music?" I answered, "I never thought I'd have a boyfriend, period." It's true. I never thought I'd have anyone in my life this long. 

Relationships can be tricky, and people can fool you sometimes. Especially in the kinky realm, where there's a lot of instant intimacy, and mistaking intensity of play for love. I am definitely not the most secure person in the world, but I know this much is true: When John leaves me, it will not be because his heart stopped loving me. It will be because his heart stopped beating. For this reason, I want to keep him very much alive.

Perhaps I reveal too much. Perhaps I lay my own heart bare too openly. But I don't know how to be any other way. I don't think I'm going to develop a heavy armor at this stage of my life. Some may think my sarcasm serves as my armor. It does in a way... but trust me, that only goes so far. So people can choose to exploit my vulnerability, or they can choose to be kind. Please be kind.

That's all, kids. I promise I'll be back on topic soon.

In the meme time...

Because I can't seem to resist these things, I'm snitching this meme from Ronnie:

1. What do you wear to bed?  When by myself -- PJs in cold weather, a short nightie or just panties in hot weather.

2. What's your favorite pet name for your SO?  Bunny.

3. What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day? Curl up with a warm blanket and watch a movie, or put on classical music and read a good book.

4. Your favorite snack food? Many things chocolate, popcorn. 

5. Do you cry at sad movies? Like a baby.

6. What's your favorite implement to be spanked with? Besides a man's hand, a nice leather belt or short strap.

7. Is your hair long or short?  Shoulder-length.

8. What size is your bed?  Full.

9. Do you have sex with the lights on or off? It varies.

10. What's your favorite 'around the house' outfit? Sloppy stuff I wouldn't go out wearing -- old sweats, worn-out shorts & tank top, things like that.

11. How do you drink your coffee or tea?  Coffee with a little bit of nonfat milk and Sweet & Low. Tea with lemon and Sweet & Low or honey.

12. Are you a bargain hunter?  Absolutely. I hate to pay top price for something if I don't have to.

13. Do you think bald men are sexy?  Ummmm... no. Sorry.

14. Are you a good driver?  I really am. Even John says so.

15. In a 24-hour period, how many hours do you spend watching TV? I have it on as background in the evenings, maybe for about five hours. But I'd say I'm actively watching it for around two or three.

16. Name the last book you read? Nanny Returns (a sequel to The Nanny Diaries) 

17. Would you rather be hot or cold? I have no tolerance for either extreme. But if I have to choose, I'd rather be cold. Heat makes me absolutely miserable.

18. How many hours a day do you spend on the Internet? Hah... waaaaaay too damn many. I've never calculated it and I'd be embarrassed to do so.

19. Do you like facial hair on a man?  On some, it's very sexy and suits them. On others, not so much. John looks very handsome with it.

20. Are you a smoker? Smoked cigarettes in high school; not since then. Haven't smoked pot since my 20s.

Question #16 reminds me -- speaking of reading books. What would be the ideal client for a proofreader who also happens to be a spanko? A publisher of spanking romance/erotica, of course. For the past few months, I've been fortunate enough to get regular work from Stormy Night Publications, run by James and Korey Mae Johnson. So far, I've proofread 14 of their books, including three by Natasha Knight and two by Renee Rose, along with several other talented authors. It's impressive, the plots that these authors come up with, fresh and new ways to write on a subject that's been written about so many times. Period pieces, incorporation of sci-fi elements, all kinds of neat stuff. So I get to read all these cool and sexy books, and get paid for it. How great is that? :-)

Off to start another one!

Weird red dots

Very strange goings-on with my right butt cheek. After an intense warm-up hand spanking, it develops this bizarre speckle pattern.

It looks like blood, or broken skin. But it isn't. It's just red dots. And they fade after a little while. 

I'm a freak. Everyone else gets a nice solid shade of red; I look like I have butt measles.

Connect the dots, anyone? 

Of course, once Steve starts laying on the implements, the color evens out. He asked me last night what I wanted. (What did I do to deserve that treat?) I said, "No wood." He complied. So it was a lot of my favorite Cane-iac leather strap -- and the Delrin cane. (sigh)

I thought I would cry last night during our scene, but I did not. Instead, I wept later, when he was told me I was beautiful. I'm not sure why... maybe because I haven't felt beautiful lately. 

Next week, Steve and I will have known each other for a year. We've come a long way, the two of us. We're in excellent sync in our top/bottom relationship, our special friendship. And yet, I still can't seem to break him of the habit of taking pictures straight on instead of shooting at an angle. Hummmpph. So I had to do some doctoring.

Hey, if you're going to stare, I'm going to stare right back. :-Þ

Working today. Feeling relaxed, a bit sleepy, my mind is quiet. As always, I wish I could bottle this tranquility.

A play partnership is not some generic thing

Last Friday, Alex wrote what I considered a brilliant post about compatibility with spanking partners. She likened our special type of relationship to puzzle pieces (with visual aids, even!) and made the point that you can't just cram any piece to fit with another. Well, you can, I guess, if you insist, and they may interlock somewhat, but not well enough to say that they really fit properly and comfortably.

In other words, it's not all that easy finding a compatible spanking partner. (Go read Alex's blog; I'll wait.)

I would like to build upon her metaphor -- if finding the right partner is as complex as finding a correct puzzle-piece fit among hundreds of others, wouldn't it stand to reason that said partner would not be easily replaceable? Or interchangeable?

Perhaps some spankos aren't as picky as I am. More power to them; they have more choices! But it's not easy for me to find a man I can really feel close to, can trust thoroughly, can submit to. (Yes, I said the S word.) Who gets me, whose play desires run along the same lines as mine, who respects John's presence in my life...so many factors. So when I do, it really ticks me off when people suggest that someone else could take easily take over for him when he's not available. 

Because Alex already covered the puzzle metaphor beautifully, I'm going in another direction. Something that everyone can certainly relate to: chocolate.

Who doesn't love brownies, right? They're delicious. But they come in so many different varieties; no two from two different sources are quite alike. And everyone has their preferences.

Me? My ideal brownie is as follows: Moist and fudge-y, but not super gooey like fudge. Very chocolate-y, not cloyingly sweet, but not bittersweet, either. Walnuts or pecans are a must, in just the right measure, and mixed into the batter, not just sprinkled on the top. No frosting. And should there happen to be chocolate chips thrown in there, I'm in Brownie Nirvana.

Now say I find this perfect brownie at XYZ Bakery. Always fresh, always good, always satisfying. So I make regular trips to XYZ Bakery to feed my craving.

One day, I go to XYZ and they tell me that they're out of brownies, and are not sure when they'll have more. Granted, it's not a necessity like food, water and air, but it's something I love. And I'm going to be quite put off if I tell my friends about how I'm missing my XYZ brownies and they say things like, "What's the big deal? Just go to the QRS Bakery," or "Go buy some at the market." Or, even worse, "Bake some yourself." No. That's too much work and nowhere near as satisfying. (Yes, that comparison with self-spanking is intentional.)

OK, I know this is silly. Human relationships are far more complex and rich than a beloved dessert. So why would people minimize them by suggesting substitutes?

I have had people say to me, "I would think someone with your connections would have spankers lining up for you." Thank you, but 1. I really don't, and 2. I wouldn't want generic spankers lining up for me anyway. I want quality, not quantity. Quantity is great fun for the light-hearted spanking play during the big weekend extraganzas, but for a more intimate connection, quality is key.

I've had men say to me, "I'll be happy to take over for Steve in the interim," when he's sick or busy. Um... what makes them think this is something I want? If I wanted just anyone, I'd place an ad on Craigslist and meet up with a different one of the 150 respondents every day. I'd go to one local group's parties and play "Musical Laps." I'm not making this up; they do this, ala the old kids' game "Musical Chairs." (I can't think of anything I'd rather do less at a spanking party. Just fall over a random lap? ACK!) As I'd mentioned before, one man even said, "Why don't you just go to the Top store and get a new one?" I know he was kidding, but that annoyed me to bits. That's an insult to Steve, suggesting he's that replaceable, and it's an insult to me, implying that all I need is a hand and a lap and I'm good.

Many spankos play with their spouse or SO and no one else, and that's fine. They don't want to go outside their primary relationship and I can understand that. But for those of us who do, things can be very complicated and there's a fine balance to maintain. And it's not easy to maintain that with just anyone. Throw in the need to have chemistry and connection of some sort, plus at least somewhat compatible preferences, and you add a lot more hay to the elusive needle.

So please. Don't diminish the importance of people's spanking relationships by suggesting in any way that they are interchangeable. Steve is deeply special, as was ST before him, and others I have known. Just as John is irreplaceable in his own right, his own place in the center of my heart, so is my spanking partner.

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

OT: Further adventures with John's new cell phone

It's happened, people. My Luddite boyfriend has become a cell phone geek, with his new Samsung Galaxy S4. Every time I talk with him, he's going on about something new he learned how to do with his phone. I have to say it's pretty damned amazing what this thing can do.

But last weekend took the cake.

On Saturday, the TV had been on all day on CNN. John is fascinated with legal proceedings, and had been closely following that trial, that verdict, etc. (And NO, we are not going to discuss that trial here. No exceptions.) Anyway, once the verdict was delivered at around 7 PM our time, I figured we were done. But after we came home from dinner, CNN was back on once again and we were watching rehash, recaps and reactions.

Finally, at 9:45, I grabbed the remote and said, "Sorry, honey, but enough of this already," and changed the channel.

John didn't say a word. He just gave me a measured look, then reached into his pocket, withdrew his phone and started fiddling with it. "What are you doing?" I asked. He ignored me and pointed his phone at the TV.

The channel changed back to CNN.

"What???" I screeched. "How the hell....?"

Grinning, he showed me the screen. Apparently he'd found some sort of app that turned his phone into a Universal Remote. Sure enough, I looked at the screen and saw a basic remote control, with on-off button, volume, channels and mute button. I was speechless.

(And yes, he let me change the channel back to another program. He was just showing off.)

So let's review. This little device is a phone, a computer, a TV, a music player, a still and video camera, a remote control, a GPS unit...what else? Sometimes I feel like I'm living in the middle of a sci-fi movie. I think of all the technological advances I've seen in my lifetime alone and it makes my brain explode. I'm old enough to remember dial telephones that did nothing but make and receive calls, and when color TV was a huge deal. It's fascinating.

For those who have been asking, John is in the throes of the endless preparation and research necessary when one is facing heart surgery. Long, complicated story, but in a nutshell, he could probably have a much less invasive surgery to repair his existing valve, but his HMO is resistant to that and would rather go the easy route and just replace it. So he's in the middle of second opinions and tests and outside networks, and preparing to fight his HMO. It's not going to be pretty. But he's hanging in there. He's tired all the time now, but still very functional, still exercising. He's a strong and stubborn cuss, that love of mine.

Have a great weekend, y'all.

CHoS is now on Kindle

Yes, kids, Erica struggled and clawed and complained her way into the modern age once again. It took a lot of work, considering I'd never done this before, but I reformatted my book file so that it would convert properly to an e-book reader. I'm pretty damn proud of myself, I must say. I'm always jazzed when I learn something new, computer-wise.

I had a lot of help. I had posted questions on both the Kindle Direct help forum, and in a book group on FetLife. Several people took the time to type out advice and tips, or give me links on places to go. I was on information overload for a while, but I was able to piece together what I needed and move forward. And finally, very special thanks to Korey Mae Johnson, who was kind enough to look at my Word document and then send me specific directions on what to tweak.

So here it is, the e-book version. I am hoping that now, sales will start to kick in and so will some positive reactions. It's been kind of disappointing, so far. Barely any sales of the paperback.

Yesterday, I looked at the paperback version on Amazon and saw that I'd gotten my very first review. One star. And because it was the only review, it stood out like a beacon, right there next to the title: "One review, one star." First thing anyone would see when they looked at the book. Really nice.

I read the review. A woman called it "Internet rehash" and said it didn't need to be a book, since you could read it by scanning the author's blog. Scanning? I started the CHoS in 2007, on MySpace. Who wants to go back and scan through three years of MySpace blogs, and then three more years of Blogspot blogs? That's some scan! And it wasn't like I just copied and pasted all the columns into a file and called it a book. I organized it all into categories, wrote introductory copy for each chapter, added beginning and ending material... Ugh! 

I know they say that one shouldn't comment to one's negative reviews, but I couldn't help it. What she said was so inaccurate. So I posted this:

It's a collection; yes, the material was posted on my blog. Over seven years, on two different sites. Hardly a "scan." Most people haven't read all the material, plus I added introductory copy to each chapter.

Thanks for taking the time to be unkind. Have a nice day. :-)

Probably not the most mature approach, but dammit...

Fortunately, Bobbie Jo was kind enough to drop by the site and post a review as well (she just finished her paperback) and gave me five stars, so the overall rating is now three stars instead of just one. Please, people. If you like the book, go say so. Good reviews mean the world to us writers. And they help encourage others to read our material. And if you don't like it, that's fine -- go read something you do like. Don't crap on someone's work.

Yes, I'm a little sulky. Lukewarm reaction to the book so far, blog comments and views are down, haven't been Chrossed in three weeks, and then that bit of unnecessary nastiness. Not feeling the love here. :-(

Enough. Back to work. Happy Hump Day. At least my A/C is working.

Finally....

Steve and I missed two Mondays. Two weeks ago, he had scheduling conflicts, so we skipped. Besides, the A/C was broken and it was hot as hell in here. Then last Monday, he called me first thing in the morning with an almost unrecognizable voice; he said he had white spots on his throat. That is a sure sign of a bacterial infection, which was verified by his doctor later that morning. Ack. Yes, by mid-last week, I was a basket case, missing him. And the damned heat didn't help.

But then the A/C finally got fixed, and Steve got well. And this Monday came, at last. :-)

I was kind of bad on the 4th of July. I hadn't seen him that past Monday, and while he was busy with a family barbecue, I was stuck home in the heat with a lot of work to do. I could have gone to John's, I guess, but he was doing family stuff that day as well -- going to see his mother, then his niece and her new baby. No, thanks! Besides, I did have a ton of work.

But by midday, I was restless. I couldn't focus on my work, I felt isolated, I felt cranky. Sooooo... I decided to relieve some tension. ;-)

When I was finished, I had a naughty impulse. I went to the computer and typed up an email to Steve: "Here's something for you to ponder while you're barbecuing your bratwurst -- I just got myself off." And hit Send.

Why? I felt like it. I enjoyed the idea of his squirming over that image while hanging out with his family. Yes, I'm bad. But come on, it's not like I sent him a picture of me doing it! (that's not sarcasm; I really didn't)

So, um, we addressed that behavior this evening. He claimed he liked it. "OK, so what are you complaining about, then?" I protested. "Because I also enjoy delivering the consequences, even though I liked it." So not fair.

He was whacking me so hard with wood and that damned Lexan, I couldn't keep still and kept flailing and rearing up. "Top says bottom stay still," he scolded, pushing me back down gently. "Bottom says fuck off," I grumbled.

I was then ordered to repeat that. Hey, it was an order. I obeyed it and got nothing but pain for my efforts.

So good to have him back. :-)

Later, just before he left, I confessed that I seem to have developed a fascination with "thigh turkeys" (hand prints). I keep seeing really crisp and clear ones on FetLife photos, and while I don't like having my legs or thighs struck over and over, there's something so amazingly intense about that single hard slap. It hurts like crazy, but I can muscle through that, knowing it's already over. And I love watching the hand print bloom.

And so I initiated Steve into the thigh turkey world. He tried first with my right thigh and got a reasonably decent print. But then he really gave it his all with my left thigh.

Never fear, kiddies. I was a very happy girl, after I stopped feeling like someone had set my thighs on fire.

Yes, I'm so ladylike. Panties are from Target, by the way. I'm not big on spending a fortune for underwear. 

I'm sore and tired, and blissfully relaxed. It's cool in here and I do believe I'm going to sleep like the dead.

Welcome back, my top.

Further adventures in publishing: The e-book saga

OK, so my book has been out for a week-and-a-half. A few people have bought it (thank you!). Dana Kane blogged about it (thank you, my friend). However, the overall reaction I've gotten is, "I'll wait for the digital version."

(sigh) Once again, I have to reluctantly face techno-reality -- people don't read books anymore. They read book files on e-book readers. If I want to sell my book, I have to do so on their terms.

So, off I trotted to my account on CreateSpace, which gives one the option of publishing a Kindle version to Kindle Direct Publishing, which is associated with Amazon. They make it sound so simple -- just upload your Word document, they'll convert it to a Kindle format, and poof! All you have to do is approve it and submit it, and it becomes available as an e-book. Easy as pie, right?

I did the conversion, then checked the file. It was a total mess. And of course, I had no idea how to fix the Word file so that it would convert properly.

First, I tried to research the issue on my own. I read about free download software that would convert files for you. Tried installing a couple of those, and, when I couldn't figure out how to use them to save my life, promptly uninstalled them. Tried to find online resources, but there was way too much information out there and I didn't know how to narrow it down to what I needed.

So I decided to ask for help (duhhhh, right?). I posted a thread in a book group on FetLife, and also one on the Kindle Community Help Forum. Wow. People are amazing sometimes -- I was deluged with information and references and links to places with tips. One thing was clear, however -- my book file had to be reformatted. What you do in a file for a paperback won't cut it in a file for an e-book.

I'll spare you the details of all the stuff I've had to do, but suffice it say I've spent two days on it. Now, I think I just might have a clean file. I even downloaded a free Kindle Previewer so I could check it out thoroughly. But I don't trust myself to submit it, so I have asked one of my clients for a favor, since they are experts in e-book publishing. I want them to take a peek at my file and see if everything looks proper. 

Soon, Kindle readers. I promise. I will have this freaking book available for you.

Speaking of entering the 21st Century, guess who finally got a Smartphone? Yes, my beloved John. The same man who still has a 19-inch tube TV and Windows XP, has never owned an iPod or an iPad or an i-anything. And he didn't get just any Smartphone; he got the top-of-the-line Samsung Galaxy S4, with a quad processor and a 13-megapixel camera. I have never seen him this jazzed over anything electronic before; all week, he's been telling me about all the stuff he can do on this thing. It's so cute.

He wants me to ask all you Smartphone users (particularly the men, since they generally have bigger hands/thicker fingers): Do you prefer to use two thumbs when typing with the touch screen, or do you hunt and peck rapidly with your index finger?

Have a great weekend, y'all.

In defense of spanking models/professionals

Yeah, I know. We've heard these arguments before, round and round, everywhere we go in the kinkosphere. You'll probably recall the huge FetLife flap from last year, with that idiot woman who likened spanking models to prostitutes and said they shouldn't be allowed at general public spanking parties (and if they were, they shouldn't be allowed to book pay sessions). She was so smug and righteous that every time she referred to spanking models, she put the phrase in quotes.

Don't worry, I'm not going to rehash that argument today. This post was inspired by something else altogether. Earlier this week, I saw a comment on our sweetie-pie Alex's photoblog. Someone had said something along the lines of "Now that you've broken up with your boyfriend, will you have to give up being a spanking model and get a real job?"

Alex, to her credit, answered the question very graciously and tactfully. Me? I saw red. First, the assumption that Alex was depending on him for financial support is, well, pretty damned assumptive. And second, guess what? Full-time spanking modeling IS a real job.

No, this is not going to be a sob story about the trials and tribulations about working in the fetish industry. I'm going to base this post on the models I know, the ones who truly love spanking, who are authentic spankos to their core -- yes, the work can be a lot of fun. But make no mistake, it is work.

I never did any fetish work for a living, just for the fun and adventure of it. Even when I was working in the dungeon, it was only a couple of days a week and for a very brief period. I got to pick and choose and do just what I wanted to do. That said, even I noticed how much work went into these productions, into the business of being a professional spanko.

When I shot a full-length video, I could completely crash the next day. Not only was my bottom sore, but I had a backache from arching my back deeply for extended periods of time and a stiff neck from unnaturally craning it (had to make sure my face was always visible to the camera). A pro doesn't get to crash. She pops a Tylenol, rubs in the arnica or whatever, and goes on to the next shoot.

When you have a "real job" (working in an office, I guess), yeah, there's a lot of aggravation. But when you're having an off day, you can somewhat retreat to your desk, bury yourself in work, phone it in a little. (Well, unless you're in sales, and then you're screwed.) You don't have to look perfect. You can be tired. And if you're really not up for it, you can call in sick and use a paid vacation/sick day.

Spanking models have to show up. Period. No work, no pay. There are no medical/dental benefits, no paid vacations or holidays, no sick days. If a model is tired, sore, not feeling well, having a "bad body" day -- too bad, so sad. She has to show up where she's expected, and she can't just lie there and take it -- she has to perform. She has to react and interact. And she needs to look her best. Because every inch of her is going to be scrutinized (more on that below). She doesn't get to phone it in. If she does, she may find herself with a reputation that could tank her career.

Most of us who work in a "real job" may have a bitch of a commute and have to deal with traffic, but at least we get to come home every day. Spanking models don't have the luxury of having regular nearby work; the production companies are spread out all over the country and beyond. People like Alex, Ten, Sarah Gregory and Dana Kane are constantly on the road (and in the air). They spend a lot of time away from their loved ones, their pets, their homes. And for those of you who are regular air travelers, you know what a @#$%ing pain in the ass that is these days. Oh, and if your flight is canceled or delayed and you don't make it to your designated shoot? Sorry, you don't get paid anyway.

It's true; most spanking models love to be spanked. But constant shooting/sessioning is still hard on the body. When I went to shoot with Sarah and "Tubaman" Paul a couple of years ago, I was with them for four days and we shot a lot of content. Some of it was quite intense. On my last day there, we had planned to shoot two more scenes, one of them with a strapping. Very sheepishly, I said to them, "Guys? I'm going to have to bail; I just can't do anymore." I was so freaking sore. Not a problem; they were shooting with a lot of others and those scenes would go to someone else. But if this were my bread and butter, I wouldn't have had that luxury. I would have had to muscle through those remaining scenes. Then fly home, maybe take a day off at most, and do it again.

We do build up tolerance after a while and don't mark as much. But for those who shoot extreme scenes, there is still a lot of healing needed, plus a risk of scarring, nerve damage, infection, etc. A former model once confessed to me, just before she retired, that it sometimes took as long as six months to fully recover from one of her heavier shoots.

Spanking models put themselves out there, literally. The plus side? Yes, they get lots of attention, develop a fan base, are treated like celebrities. It's great fun. But they're also subject to every kind of critique imaginable. They're too fat, they're too thin, they're too old, they have cellulite, they need to exercise, they need to shave, they make too much noise, they're too quiet, they're too bratty, they're boring, the acting is fake, the spanking is fake, they aren't wearing the right kind of panties, they shouldn't be wearing panties at all, they should spread their legs more, blah blah fucking blah. A thick skin is definitely called for. Viewers can be utterly vicious. I still recall sitting online IMing with another former model, an exquisitely beautiful young woman, who was melting down over some fucktard who called her "ugly white trash" on a forum.

When I did videos, I chose to remain a bottom, because that's what I am. Professional spanking models need to be versatile, need to do things that aren't necessarily in their comfort zone. Because it's their job, not their fun time. A bottom in this industry either learns how to top, or she learns how to work behind the camera, because her years as a bottom are numbered. Firm Hand, for example, has a cut-off age of 35. If I topped, if I were willing to do F/F, I could probably still be doing videos. But I don't want to. People in this industry, for the most part, don't get to say "I don't want to." Sure, they can refuse to do really extreme stuff. But the basics, like switching and playing with other women? Say no to that, and you say no to your career. Now granted, a lot of spankos love the versatility. But what if they don't? Oh well.

For most of us spankos, the big weekend spanking parties are nothing but nonstop fun. For spanking models, they are fun, but they are also work. They have to plan their time, gauge their scenes, make sure they don't mark if they're going to be shooting. They have to buy their tickets and get a hotel room just like any other guest; they pay for their vendor tables. They are constantly needing to market, to compete, to stay on top of their game. And then on top of all that, they have to put up with the contempt of the green-eyed monsters who resent their presence.

Once again, I am not writing this to say "poor, poor spanking models." This is their chosen life and they are doing what fulfills them -- more power to them. But this crap about it not being a "real job" needs to stop. I'd like to see some of these naysayers take on a month of a typical model's schedule of shooting, traveling and sessioning, and then see what they have to say.

So the next time any of you think that being a spanking pro is nothing but glamour, glitz, being paid exorbitant amounts of money (!!!) for doing something that's nothing but fun, and living off of various men with deep pockets, think again. And if you're still thinking that, do us all a favor -- STFU about it.

Rant over.

Yup...

...that is the mood du jour.

I'm off to John's. Have a good weekend, y'all.

My CHoS book is AVAILABLE! :-)

It's true, kids. My third book is out. 

I'm still not thrilled with this cover, but with their very limited Cover Creator function, it's the best I could do. I just didn't want to bother trying to have a spectacular cover designed; I did that with Late Bloomer, and that's where it really mattered.

Anyway, it's on CreateSpace here, and on Amazon here. Who's going to be the first to order it? :-) Come on, it's cheap!

Sorry, no e-book version yet. I haven't worked that out; CreateSpace linked me to Kindle Direct, where I could convert my book file into a Kindle file. I tried it... and it was completely effed up. And I don't know how to fix it. So I'll have to go another route for an e-book, and I don't know what that will be at the moment. When I work that all out, I'll let y'all know.

The paperback version is 160 pages. That's a whole lot of idiocy. I hope people will enjoy it.

This has been a good writing week. As I'd mentioned on Monday, there was a piece of writing on FetLife from a Dom talking about all the difficulties of being a top. I think it was somewhat satirical, but some of it annoyed me. Since it got over 1600 Loves and hundreds of comments, I figured I'd piggyback off it and write a rebuttal, which I did yesterday morning. I linked to the original, so people could compare the two, and called mine: "Rebuttal: Being a Bottom Really Can Suck Sometimes." Figured I'd have a brief flurry of comments, maybe a few Loves, and that would be that.

As of this morning, the piece made Kinky & Popular (first time my writing has ever done that), has 67 comments and 213 Loves. And here's the coolest part: the guy whose piece I spoofed was a really good sport about it. He commented and added his own Love! LOL. We had a brief private message exchange and he jokingly said that if my tongue is that sharp when it's firmly planted in my cheek, he'd hate to see what it could do when it roams free! (yes, he would)

Unfortunately, you have to be a FetLife member to read it. If you are, and you have not seen it yet, it's here.

All right. I am a busy girl. Must go market book. Must work on projects. Must concentrate on trying to stay comfortable. Yes, the A/C is still severely compromised. It blew one of its compressors and is operating on 1/2 capacity, and will continue to do so until a new compressor can be located and installed. Challenging, considering how busy the A/C repair people are right now and how in demand parts are. Blech.

Hope everyone here in the States has a wonderful July 4th holiday tomorrow!

Monday potpourri

I hate summer. Yes, I know I say that every year. Why should 2013 be an exception?

Temps were in the triple digits this weekend, and I hibernated in John's house, which was blessedly cool. But sooner or later, I knew I had to come home. I knew it wouldn't be super comfortable in here, but I didn't expect it to feel like a furnace blast when I walked in. Apparently, we'd had a power outage for a while, and it must have short-circuited the A/C, which was now blowing coolish/warmish air. And it was a little over 80 degrees in the apartment.

Nothing I could do about it, except put on every fan I owned, keep the lights off, and walk around naked, spritzing myself with a water sprayer. No, I don't have any pictures. Sorry.

This morning, it's a chilly 76 degrees in my apartment. The vents seem to be spewing marginally cooler air, but maybe it's wishful thinking. Such is summer in a building with antiquated A/C. 

Steve can't come over to play. He has business issues to handle, and I told him it's OK, since it would be miserable trying to play in here today anyway. At least I have two large work projects to keep myself busy. But I will miss him. Still, the idea of any sort of physical exertion in here is most unpleasant.

In other news: I haven't noticed that any blogs have disappeared. You know what I think? I believe Blogger deliberately made that form letter vague, to scare the hell out of all of us, make us wonder, chase some of us off. They probably want to get rid of us anyway, even though they say it's OK for us to be here (as long as we're not making any money). For now, I have my blog backed up in an XML file and I opened a WordPress account and imported my posts/comments there, but that's just for safekeeping. I think at this point, transferring from Blogger to WordPress is a lateral move that really isn't necessary. If I do have to transfer, I will get my own domain, so I don't have to worry about this BS anymore. 

And speaking of moves, Dana Kane wasted no time in ensuring her blog is safe; she has moved to her own domain: Ms. Dana Kane. Be sure to update your blog roll and go welcome her to her new place.

Other news II: There is a tempestuous thread ongoing at FetLife; it started out as one subject, but then morphed into an argument about whether or not "professional" spankers are more expert at spanking than your average everyday spanker. There has been much drama and snarking -- and believe it or not, I dropped out of it a couple of days ago. Maybe I just don't have the energy; it's too hot. Maybe I'm sick of these arguments that never get resolved. But it does seem that there's been an excessive amount of arguing/debating/flaming on Fet lately. Maybe I'll blog about some of the heated topics, if I can muster the creativity in my fried brain.

I did respond to one guy's writing though -- a treatise on, I quote: The Shit Thing About Being a Dom. He then delves into a long list of laments about all the stuff Doms have to put up with. I still can't figure out whether it's partially tongue-in-cheek or what, but it sounds awfully whiny to me. I didn't address the entire litany, just one point, this:

Doms are the most mocked thing on Fetlife.

• Everyone on Fetlife likes to make fun of something. But you need to be careful who you throw rocks at, because you don't want to be seen as a bully or intolerant. So the easiest thing to do, is throw rocks at someone who supposedly should be strong enough by nature to absorb the blows. Therefore Doms are the brunt of satire, sarcasm, and plain old mocking by the truck load. Doms are picked on for not being Dominant enough, or too domly dominant, or worse still; the dreaded Uber Dom. And if a Dom doesn't like it then the assumption is that he obviously isn't a real Dominant.

To which I responded:

"This piece is interesting and thought-provoking. I don't have the time or energy (it's a bazillion degrees here) to comment thoroughly, nor can I read all the other comments now. However, one sentence jumped out at me and I must take exception.

Therefore Doms are the brunt of satire, sarcasm, and plain old mocking by the truck load.

No. Not good Doms/tops. Not the thoughtful, kind, compassionate and loving ones. Not the ones who treat each bottom/sub as an individual, with individual limits, needs and desires. Not the ones who earn respect rather than demanding it.

Replace "Doms" with "arrogant people" and yes, I agree. Because I adore tops. I know many who have given me much joy and fulfillment. But yeah, if "the dreaded Uber Dom" gets in my face, you bet I'm going to have a faceful of snark ready for him.

[Another one of his points was that Doms are expected to be mind readers, so I added this:]

One more thing: I totally agree that Doms are often expected to be mind readers and psychics, which is completely unfair and unreasonable. Subs/bottoms need to communicate their needs and hard limits, what they like, what they'll do and not do, etc. If something goes wrong, they need to have a two-way discussion and openly talk about what went wrong.

However... sometimes, when we bottoms do this, we are told by the dreaded you-know-whats that we're topping from the bottom. (sigh)"

I didn't receive any feedback to this, but I didn't expect to. The traffic was so high on this writing, no one was replying to anyone; they were just writing opinions. (Mostly odes of praise.) At this moment, the writing has 353 comments and 1,593 Loves. Go figure.

Perhaps I should write a rebuttal treatise called "The BS Bottoms Have to Put Up With." I'll put that on the list.

Meanwhile, I'm heading for the gym to cool off.