Ode to our stress relievers (AKA spankers)

OK, without going into an abundance of detail, let's just say this past weekend sucked eggs. Saturday was a whole lot of stress and aggravation and heat and traffic, culminating in a horrible fight between John and me. In the car, on the freeway. Fortunately, I'm sane enough to keep my head while behind the wheel and I didn't crash us into a divider (or another car). But it was highly unpleasant. Many apologies (both of ours) and a million tears (mine) later, we are OK. But it left me feeling shell-shocked, fatigued and tense. I hate fighting. I hate confrontation. And I go into emotional overload.

So I was more than ready for ST today, and guess what? He was more than willing to help me with my stress problem. Whatta guy, huh? So, to the tune of the Rolling Stones' "Mother's Little Helper" (embedded below), I have penned "Stress Releasing Helper."





What a drag it is, being stressed

Life is oh-so-hard today,
I hear every bottom say,
Baby needs something today to calm her down
And though she’s not really ill
When she’s acting like a pill
She goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
And he puts her OTK
Spanks her till she feels okay

Feeling like a shrew today
I hear every bottom say,
She just can’t stop acting out, it’s such a drag
So she eats a frozen cake
Till she gets a stomach ache
And goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
And he knows just what to do
Spanks her bottom black and blue

Spanker please, lots more of these,
I’m still not sane, I need more pain!
What a drag it is, being stressed

Jobs are such a bitch today,
I hear every bottom say,
Bosses think you’re there to work, how fucked is that?
Now they want her to stay late,
She says “NO, I’ve got a date!”
And goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
She forgets about the rut
While he’s whaling on her butt

Spanker please, I’m o’er your knees
I’m full of steam, please make me scream!
What a drag it is, being stressed

Life will piss you off today
I hear every bottom say
Plain vanilla every day is just a bore
It’s a spanking that she’ll need
Not the pills and not the weed
She goes running for the shelter
Of her Stress Releasing Helper
He will spank her backside bright
And she’ll sleep in peace tonight

Feeling so much better. Thank you, darlin'. You're so much better than any drug (cuter, too). :-)

My "sweet 16" celebration

Yeah, yeah. Chronologically, I'm a whole lot older than 16. But today, in spanko years, I am 16. On Memorial Day 1996, a handsome, dominant man came into my apartment and introduced me to spanking, and my world was never the same again.

I wanted to forget about all the stress and heartache and just have fun. I fleetingly thought about buying some champagne, but ran out of time. On Friday, we'd had a brief power outage, not much longer than an hour. When it came back on, one of my cable boxes had blown out. So today, the cable guy was coming over between 3 and 5. Fortunately, he was here by 3:40 and out of here by 4:05. So I had plenty enough time to get ready for ST, but not enough to nip back out to get champagne. Oh well.

When he showed up bearing his toy bag as usual, I thought nothing of it. Until he sat on my couch, unzipped it and pulled out a greeting card. I was so tickled! It was a "blank inside" card with SWEET! written on the front, and he'd filled in a "Happy Sweet 16" message inside. That alone would have delighted me, but then he reached into his bag again, and pulled out... you guessed it. A bottle of ice-cold champagne. :-D  How wonderful is this man!!

I practically danced into the kitchen, getting the glasses while he opened it. We decided that we'd have one glass now, and then another after playing. And then HE decided we were going to combine some of my implements with his to total 16, and he'd give me 16 swats with each one. Of course, his hand wouldn't count.

I had barely eaten anything all day -- I don't usually like to eat before scenes, so my stomach was empty. And that first glass of champagne slammed into me, full force. Delightfully so. It wasn't more than a few minutes before I was giggling and talking funny and acting like a, well, a 16-year-old.

I know the spanking with 16 implements + hand must have hurt. But damned if I remember any of it.

I do recall that I obliterated another cane...

OK, so maybe it did hurt a little.

But hey! It was time for more champagne!

Uh oh! My glass foameth over!

We got a bit rambunctious in the kitchen, with ST determined to find every single pervertable I had in my kitchen drawers. I took smacks from wooden spoons, spatulas, a frosting spreader, a frying pan he plucked out of the dish drainer, a pair of chopsticks, a cake slicer (NOT serrated, no worries). And of course, one of my spoons bit the dust.

That second glass took me from tipsy to slightly woozy (yes, really -- that's all it takes with me), so I drank about 2/3 of it and then lay on the couch with my head in ST's lap. I felt blissfully content, singing along with the iTunes radio playing on my computer, and we stayed there for a long time, chatting and relaxing. My head cleared, and when I told him the effects had worn off, he took that as a green light for us to play again. No complaints here! ST seemed unaffected by the champagne; I guess it's a guy thing (they're bigger and they can absorb more??). I've never seen John so much as tipsy either.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, after Round #3, I finished that second glass of champagne.

So... 16 years of spanking. Millions of swats, maybe? Well, thousands, anyway. What was the difference between Memorial Day 1996 and Memorial Day 2012?

Hmmm... well, in 1996, I marked like crazy. In 1996, it was just his hand, not 16 implements plus a drawerful of kitchen utensils. In 1996, I was a clean canvas, feeling myriad new emotions and sensations, and certain that I'd fallen in love with my spanker.

But in truth, I barely knew him. I never even found out his last name. I didn't know where he lived. He did incredible things to me and I'll always be grateful to him, but he was a stranger nonetheless. And what I fell in love with was what he gave me.

So I suppose that's the biggest difference, between 1996 and 2012. Today, it wasn't a stranger. Today, it was the bestest top ever, and -- even better -- a great friend. And this man, I love to bits. ♥

My chronological 16th birthday sucked, as I recall. But this 16th was indeed sweet. I'm going to treat myself to some chocolate and a few episodes of Dark Shadows, and then slip off to sleep.

Hope everyone had a good three-day weekend.

Next time, look under the bed, dumbass

Last time ST was here, we played in the bedroom and he had me get the Cane-iac Spanking Buddy out of my vanity drawer. Even though I had given it to him as a gift, he likes me to keep it here. So after he left, I looked on the bed and on the floor, but couldn't find it. I figured he'd accidentally picked it up with all his other toys and put it in his bag.

Tonight when we were ready to play, I mentioned that he might have the SB in his bag, because I thought he took it by accident. He rummaged through everything -- "Nope, I don't have it." Hmmmm... Oh, wait! Maybe it had traveled under the bed somehow (no, I didn't put it there).

Off I went to the bedroom to look, and sure enough, it was way under the bed. You wouldn't believe the noise I got from ST when I came back.

"Aha! You had it all along, and you accused me of stealing it!"

"I did not!" I protested. "I said you might have taken it by accident!"

"You were still blaming me, and all the while it was just your lousy housekeeping!"

I beg your pardon??

"You really shouldn't accuse me of stealing," he scolded, pulling me OTK.

"Dammit! There was nothing accusatory about what I said!" I hollered.

"Yeah, well, I'm about to get abuse-atory on your bottom." (groan) Oh, clever man.

We were both chatty at first, him blathering some nonsense about "poor Erica" and how I get blamed for doing things I didn't do, because I'm a perfect angel all the time. (Well, at least he's finally seeing that.) He said we should shoot a series caled "Poor Erica," and with each installment, I'd get some sort of unfair punishment. Sounds like Monday nights to me! (snort)

"So what scenarios should we use?" he asked.

"I dunno," I muttered. "Some of your lame-ass flimsy reasons, I guess."

Ouch.

"You're really not in a position to be making comments like that, are you?" (Well, no. But when has that ever stopped me?) I insisted that it was true, that he came up with the damndest reasons.

"That's just superior top logic in operation," he claimed. I said that was an oxymoron. He didn't like that either.

"NO, I'm not calling you a moron!" I screeched. "Don't you know what an oxymoron is??"

"Yes, I know what it is," he said. "But it still sounds like it should be the name of an infomercial or something. Doing Laundry with OxyClean for Dummies."

Jesus. Who put a quarter in him tonight?

By the way, here I am, playing the cheerful hostess and offering up the Spanking Buddy.

He liked how my panties tangled up on my feet and legs when I kicked. Said it was a good leg toner, using my panties like an exercise band. He should start his own gym and teach his own exercises.

Yeah, right.

All this jocularity was very well and good, but when he moved me to the ottoman, things began to transition. We got quieter and more focused, and he ramped things up.

No tears tonight. I wasn't feeling the need for emotional release. But I went so deeply into subspace, I couldn't speak any more. I heard incoherent noises... moans, groans, sighs, whimpers. Dreamily, I wondered where they came from, and realized they were my own.

It was an all-leather night, except for the final 10, much later, with the wooden paddle. He didn't ask me to count them, as he usually does. He knew I wouldn't be able to. I could barely take them, they hurt so much, and I shrieked into my pillow. And when they were over, I melted bonelessly into the cushions.

I didn't say anything for a long time. I didn't think about anything, either. My head felt refreshingly clean and clear, the usual nattering at bay. I could have shut my eyes and drifted to sleep, as he curled up next to me and stroked my back, my hair. When I finally spoke, my first slurred words were, "Can I slip into something more comfortable...like a coma?"

Ever want to freeze a moment in time? A moment when you feel so utterly right, so blissful and and at peace, you want to capture it and lose yourself in it?

Eventually, I know I have to raise my head, open my eyes, push my hair out of my face. But I put it off as long as possible. Fortunately, ST is patient. He waits. He soothes, and he waits.

We ended the evening by watching some SNL skits on Hulu. He'd never seen their parodies of the Lawrence Welk show, which are hysterical. You can't fully appreciate them unless you grew up with that stupid show, which we both did.

I am particularly sore tonight, squirming in my computer chair. Not complaining, however. It's the good pain. :-) I'm in my happy place.

Pre-emptive Strike(s)

Many strikes. Hundreds of them. What for? Nothing I'd done. No, these were what ST thinks I'm going to do. He say I'm going to get addicted to my new Smart Phone and be on it all the time, like everyone else.

Jeeeezus. I haven't even gotten the @#$%ing thing yet and I'm already in trouble for it.

I protested that I wouldn't do any such thing. He didn't believe me. He even had the nerve to suggest that I'll be on my cell phone tweeting and texting and doing God knows what while he's spanking me.

"That's ridiculous! Why would I even turn on my cell in my apartment? I have a landline and a computer here!"

Makes sense, right? But of course, to a spanker, the only logic is Top Logic and anything else is null and void. Humph. I guess I'll just have to prove it to him. He also warned me that if I ever text and drive, I'll never sit again. Not to worry... I don't intend to. With all the ranting and bitching I've done about other people doing it, I'd be the world's biggest hypocrite if I did it myself!

He congratulated me for being Chrossed, to which I moaned that I hadn't been Chrossed for two weeks in a row. "You're Chrossed lots of times!" he said. "You don't have to be every single week!"

"But I want to be every week!" I whined.

"Oh, so it's all about what you want, huh?"

Duh. Well, of course it is. What else would it be about? Silly of him to even ask such a thing.

"Well then, I guess I should spank you really hard, then, so you'll have something to write about."

I shrugged. "You don't have to. Even if you're light, I can spin it."

He didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean, spin it?"

I said that I'd simply write a post about what a lame-ass he was tonight.

That did it. Me and my big mouth.

We changed things up a bit tonight, position-wise. He said we needed to make the pictures a little different. Hey, I'm all for that. But I didn't know "different" was going to be so damned uncomfortable.

Doesn't seem like it should be all that uncomfortable, does it? Well, it was. The top of the chair was digging into my belly and my shoulders ached from bracing with my arms.

Booo hoooooo. Yes, he felt so sorry for me. NOT.

After a while, he let me stand up and grip the chair. So nice of him, don't you think? I wasn't rolling my eyes, honest. I was looking skyward and thanking the deities for the kindness of this man.



Ah, finally I got to lie down. Funny, though... I didn't find a whole lot of comfort in that either.

But finally, we had our grand finale (20 with the big strap and 10 with the paddle). I was just a tad perplexed when he put me back over his knee, but this time it was just so he could massage on some lotion. :-)

Silly me, I thought we were done.

Nah. Later, I got up to change the channel on the stereo. Apparently, my bending over got him all hot and bothered again.

I swear, it's like a red flag in front of a bull! Back OTK I went for Round Two.

(And yes, those are cassette tapes. Not a word out of any of you. They're old and I don't play them anymore; most of them have been replaced by CDs or iTunes downloads. But I am a saver.)

He kept saying, "Just a few more." But then he got into a debate with himself about exactly what is "a few," anyway? More than two, less than 10? A few dozen? A few hundred? All the while he was musing over this nonsense, he was spanking away.

Oh yes, ST was in good form tonight. (groan)

It was a fun night; a lot of laughing. Sometimes, I just need to laugh. :-)  He certainly had his share of chuckles as well. (Have I mentioned lately that ST has the most diabolical laugh?)

And tomorrow, I plan to buy the aforementioned Smart Phone. Stay tuned for my adventures with that. I'm sure my Luddite self will be tested to the max!

A visit from Mr. Hyde

(I'm going to beg the question here and assume y'all know the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.) :-)

I would say that most of the time, ST is Dr. Jekyll. Mild-mannered, soft-spoken, with a gentle nature despite his powerful right hand/arm.

Most of the time. But once in a while, when I least expect it, his inner Mr. Hyde comes out to play.

Tonight, he didn't even give me a hug when he came in the door. Just unceremoniously led me into the bedroom and pushed me facedown onto the bed. Not wasting any time, he pulled everything below my waist down and off.

"What did I do??" I blurted. He didn't answer, just gave me a few hard whacks. He pulled me back onto my feet, long enough to tie my hands together, then pushed me back down. After tying my feet, he then bound both ropes to the bed casters, so I couldn't budge.

"What did I DO?" I repeated. He leaned down and wound his fist into my hair.

"You didn't do anything."

Huh?

"I just have a head of steam built up, and I feel like spanking some ass. Since you're my spanking girl, you're the lucky recipient. And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. Is there?"

I didn't answer, and he pulled my hair more firmly. "I asked you a question."

"No," I said meekly.

I suppose I should have been terrified. I trembled, but not from fear. I know I was in for it, and hard. But I also knew I was in very trusted hands.

And sometimes... sometimes, I like to go there. I like to play a little rough. But you guys know that.

You've also probably figured out that whenever ST is in Mr. Hyde mode, I usually end up in naked mode. Tonight, he decided my sweater and bra were in the way, after he'd tied my hands. So he just yanked them up and over my shoulders, where they remained bunched up for the rest of the scene.

Not to worry, it wasn't as uncomfortable as it looks. Just uncomfortable enough. :-)

Back on my stomach, I do believe I felt every implement in his bag, plus a couple of my own. All the while he teased me, said I had no idea what was coming next. He'd take brief breaks, caress my back and legs, then snap right back into the spanking. I couldn't cover my mouth with my hands, so I muffled it with the comforter. I could hardly move, but some of those implements made me writhe. Once, he tickled my feet with one hand and strapped me with the other. MEAN. Just mean.

He knew it, too. "I'm just so mean and horrible, aren't I?" I nodded vigorously. He leaned down to me once again. "But you like me that way, don't you!" Couldn't lie, now could I... I said yes.

"I guess we can get into some real spanking now, since the warmup is over, right?" he said.

"Whaaa?" I screeched. "There was no warmup!"

He insisted there was, but it was a "higher level" warmup. Oh, brother.

"Well, you're practically naked," he explained. "I was concerned that you'd get cold, so I wanted to make sure there was lots of heat emanating from your bottom."

OK, some things are just ridiculous. "You could have put on the fucking heater!" I hollered. Fortunately, by that point, Mr. Hyde was on his way out and ST just laughed.

But that didn't keep him from finishing me off with 20 belt strikes, followed by 20 paddle swats. Hard ones.

I really like the following photo, although I hate the straight-on angle. You all know how I feel about gyno shots. So yes, that is a little NO in a circle with a line through it, placed strategically. :-) 

We were both extra relaxed and mellow after that scene. Guess it did us both good.

A couple of news bits: There is a new e-book available called
My First Spanking: An Anthology. It is a collection of stories about first spankings, compiled and edited by Cassandra Park and published by Ravenous Romance. Yours truly contributed a story. I figured everyone and their mother knows the story of my real first spanking by now, so I wrote a fictional tale called "Just Ask Me."

Also, Suzy's Spanking Union (S S U) just put up a lovely review of this blog. Thank you, Suzy! I appreciate the kind words and the nice shout-out. :-)

Now, if I could just keep all these yummy post-spanking feelings for more than a few hours. If only they could form an invisible shield, protecting me from all the BS outside my haven. But alas...

I guess that's why there are so many Mondays. Sweet dreams, my not-so-evil Mr. Hyde.

Takin' it for Cane-iac!

Recently, the good folks at Cane-iac wrote and asked if they could send me a few new things, so I could test and review them. Naturally, I said yes, without even asking what was coming my way.

Their package arrived late last week, and I opened it to find the Pink Stripe Rubber Loop Set (two sizes: 12" and 18") and the Lexan Paddle OTK, a 12" paddle sized perfectly for over-the-knee.

(gulp) Rubber? Lexan? I hadn't experienced Lexan before, and I'd heard it described in many colorful ways, from mild (it's not very forgiving) to strong (it sucks). But I was determined to be a brave spokesperson and put myself in ST's capable hands with these beasts beauties. After all, I do believe in this company and their product.

So tonight when ST arrived, I showed him the new toys (and watched his eyes light up, the sadist), and we talked about how we'd handle the testing. I remembered the last time I'd done a demo with their implements, ST had given me a nice long warmup, and as a result, I didn't get lasting color or any marks. Bravely I suggested that perhaps we should forego the warmup and go straight to the new implements. His eyes lit up even more and his grin was positively diabolical. Of course HE thought that was a good idea.

Off to the bedroom we went. I tried taking a "before" picture, holding all three implements, but as it turned out, they didn't show up well against my sweater:

So we did this type of before picture instead:

We decided to do 20 strokes of each toy per round, taking pictures in between.

He began with the Jr. (12") rubber loop, which is a great OTK toy. Without a warmup, the first round with the implements hurt like crazy, but I could still get a clear sense of how each one felt. The rubber loops were very snappy, more of a sting than a thud (which I like), and the loud CRACK they made was impressive. After 20 each of both the Jr. and the Sr. (18"), ST picked up the Lexan paddle.

Perhaps it's a good thing we weren't filming. Upon my first taste of Lexan, I used some language that would have been inappropriate for Cane-iac's site. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Once I acclimated a bit, I realized it had a feel that's unlike leather or wood. It's not as thuddy as wood, even though it's more solid and firm than leather. It has a very crisp sting and a bite upon impact (this particular one is 1/4" thick). Cane-iac's Lexan paddle is well made, with smooth, rounded edges and a non-slip vinyl handle. ST wanted me to mention that it felt very good to him (rolling eyes) and it was easy to use.

Here I am after two rounds of 20 with all three (120 strokes total):

We're just getting started!

Time for another position -- instead of on the bed, now it was bent over a chair. By now, I was quite warm and that sweater had to go.

Third set of 20 with all three -- bit more color now. And I was stamping and fussing a lot more.

(Big thanks to Zelle for Photoshopping the damn tag out of my bra! ♥)

But wait, there's more! All three of these toys could be used OTK, even the 18" loop. So over his lap I went.

We stopped counted the sets of 20; he just whaled away at this point. ST takes his product testing duties very seriously.

After three positions and countless strokes, I'd say we'd done a good test, and all three implements passed, even the Lexan. Once I was warmed up, I sorta kinda didn't completely hate it. OK, I loved to hate it. Or I hated to love it. Something like that.

So now I have three new additions to my collection, and I would recommend these to anyone who wants something different from the usual. The prices are excellent, and you cannot beat Cane-iac's customer service or quality of craftsmanship.

My one caveat about the rubber loops? I would say exercise caution about using them anywhere you're concerned about noise, because they do make a distinctive and loud snap. But as I always say, if your neighbors don't hear an accompanying shriek, they can't say for sure what you're doing. So make sure you stifle your reactions with a pillow or bedspread and you should be fine.

Oh... did you think we were done?

Hell, no. I had to retrieve the rest of my Cane-iac arsenal.

I was so sore after all those, he even let me rub:

However, despite it all, I couldn't stop giggling. I tried to tell him it was hysteria, but he didn't buy it. I pushed him a bit too far with this pose -- you can't see it very clearly, but I have my middle finger stuck through the loop:

OK, OK! I'm sorry! Sheeesh... Some people have no sense of humor.

By the way, I broke my Junior rattan cane. I would have taken a picture of it, but we couldn't find the piece that flew off. Honest to god, we searched all over the bed, on the carpet, under the bed -- that damn thing just disappeared. Knowing me, I'll find it with my bare foot eventually.

Even without a warmup, I didn't mark. Scary. But ye gods, I'm sore. Happily so, though. I needed this tonight.

(Right, Erica. When do you not need it??)

Thank you, Cane-iac. And thank you, ST, Testing Partner Extraordinaire. :-)

Well, what do you know

Tops can be fair every now and then!

When ST showed up tonight, he said, "So, I read your blog." Uh oh. But then he continued with, "I'm not going to spank you for defending yourself, or your friends. You're perfectly within your right to do that."

Hot damn!

And then he added, "I'll just have to spank you for something else, or make something up."

So much for that brief moment of fairness. Humph.

I told him that John had groused about the efficacy of his spankings. I quote, "Tell ST that whatever he's doing, it's not working! He's been there every week for well over a year and you're as big a brat as you ever were."

"There's no pleasing him," I grumbled during the warmup. "And there's no pleasing you either!"

"Oh, I don't know," he mused, running his hand over my bottom, still with leggings on. "This is a very pleasing backside."

"Thank you."

"It will be even more pleasing after your pants come down. Yes, this pleases me very much."

"Well, if you're so pleased, then why the @#$% are you spanking me?"

I never know when I'm ahead.

Here's an interesting discovery from this evening -- do you know that even a leather spanking buddy, when used with a very powerful hand, can feel like a club? I had no idea. But I'd swear that thing was a meat mallet, not a strip of leather, by the time he went full force with it. I was actually grateful when he switched to canes!

Still not all that red, is it? There was a lot more ahead.

No tears tonight; I was in a better frame of mind. But I had so much pent-up tension after dealing with the various asshats, I could feel it coming off me in waves. I struggled very hard not to scream, but a couple of yelps slipped out before I finally mashed my mouth into the bedspread.

Will you look at all these freaking implements?

But at last, it was the final ten with the wooden paddle. And then I curled up into a ball on the bed, bunching up the bedspread in my fists. He went to get the lotion; it stung, but felt cool as well. After a while, he got onto the bed and spooned with me from behind. We didn't speak for a long time.

I love aftercare. I love that connection, that time to transition back, slowly. I so adore how gentle he can be, after being so harsh.

Now, ready for something scary?

Here I am, still kind of in subspace, sprawled out on the bed among the toys. Check out my bottom. This is about 20-25 minutes after we stopped.

Looks like he hasn't even started yet, right? WTF?

Well, I can guaran-damn-tee you that it sure feels like he started, and finished too. But of course, to look at me, no one would believe it.

(sigh)

I can honestly say that at the moment, I couldn't give a rat's aspirator about whatever nonsense is happening on FetLife. :-) That should last me, oh, until tomorrow.

Oh! One more thing. Spanking Court put up another promo clip of that preview, and this one is much longer than the one on SpankingTube last week. You see more of the spanking, and get to hear more of my smart-ass lines. Also, watch for the moment in court when I temporarily crack up the Disciplinarian; I say something snotty and he abruptly turns his face to the wall. :-D  Check it out here.

(Note: For whatever reason, the link above to the SC promo works in Google Chrome, but not IE. Don't know if it works in Firefox or not, since I don't have that browser loaded.)

Blissfully sleepy. Sweet dreams, ST.

Are you ready for this?

You may want to sit down. I don't think y'all have ever seen me quite like this. And you probably won't again, so you'd better memorize it. I may come to my senses tomorrow and take it down. :-)

OK, so the naked thing is nothing new. The collar? That's another story.

Allow me to backtrack to the beginning of this evening, if I may.

When ST first arrived, he asked me how I was doing. He already knew, having read my blog. And I'm sure he knew I needed to blow off some details. I can talk to him about this stuff. He is as discreet as the day is long. And he's a switch himself, so he understands.

He sat quietly and let me vent a bit about my frustrations with the domme/slave thing. When he sensed I was finished, he did an assessment -- perhaps it was subconscious on his part, or maybe it was deliberate. He knew I wanted and needed to be edgy tonight. I craved to be pushed, challenged, unnerved a bit. I needed to let go.

"I could use a beck-and-call girl, myself," he mused, winding his hand into my hair and tightening his fist. "I think I should make you MY little spank slave."

"Right," I scoffed.

"I have a collar and leash right here in my bag," he said, watching my face closely. "I think I should put it on you, what do you think?"

He was checking with me. I knew it. I blustered, "Oh my god! You've GOT to be @#$%ing kidding me!"

But I didn't say no. And so the collar went around my neck.

Only with someone I trust this much, would I go there. I constantly amaze myself with the things I'm willing to do with him, things that are so out of my little play box. And tonight, that was just what I needed.

He made me crawl into my bedroom on my hands and knees, and once I was on the bed, I had to take off all my clothes. But not before I had one last moment of defiance.

After that, I was subdued rather quickly. Especially when the clothes came off and the ropes came out. Collared and tied, I was helpless.

"Now I can do anything I want, can't I," he taunted. "And you can't do a thing about it."

No, I couldn't.

And oh, it hurt.

"You're not going to scream, are you?" he growled in my ear. I shook my head vigorously. "Perhaps I should MAKE you scream."

But somehow, I didn't. I cried, I smashed my face into the bedspread. But I did not scream. I did say please, please... "Please what? Please show you some mercy?" "Yes, please," I sobbed. "I'll think about it," he said.

After the tears began, he softened a bit. He untied the rope and took off the collar. But the spanking went on for quite a while after that.

He paused, hovering over me. "Are you getting what you need?"

"Yes."

"Do you need some more?"

"Yes, please."

He obliged.

"Go on, let it out," he murmured as I wept. I did. It felt so, so damned intensely good. The knots in my stomach and chest dissolved. All the tension flowed out with my tears.

I don't know how he always knows just what to do, where to take me. He asked me if I liked it. I answered as honestly as I could: "I liked it with you." I don't believe I'll ever fetishize that degree of D/s. It's not me. But freefalling a bit, knowing he's there to catch me, is damned hot.

Reluctantly, he finally let me put some clothes back on.

But just for the record, we did do another scene. This time with canes. Dammit, canes really hurt when you're already sore. I had some choice utterances.

"You've invoked both God and Jesus -- want to try for the Holy Ghost?" he teased.

"I wish you were a ghost," I snapped. "Then you could disappear."

I never learn. Fortunately, he's willing to come back, again and again, to try to teach me. :-)

Thank you for being here for me.

First spanking of 2012

Happy New Year! So what could I possibly have done to get myself in trouble so early in the year?

Did I break a New Year's resolution already? Nuh uh. I didn't make any. Apparently, His Toppiness thought that was inappropriate.

"Come on," I protested. "What do I need to make resolutions for? I don't smoke. I hardly ever drink. I don't need to lose weight. I already exercise."

"Well, aren't you Little Miss Perfect!" he said.

"Why, yes, I guess I am, now that you mention it."

That didn't fly at all. It seems that not making a NY resolution is the height of arrogance and is a spankworthy offense. Gee, what a surprise that is.

He's enjoying his Leather Spanking Buddy way too much. He did the entire warmup with that thing. Oh, but he hastened to inform me that even with the spanking buddy, his hand still stings a bit. Poor dear.

"Life's a bitch," I muttered. "Or a bastard, as the case may be."

"Are you calling me a bastard?" Oh, for God's sake. I said life, not you.

To be fair, however, once he broke into the heavy artillery, he started out fairly light. Until I opened my big yap and said, "What style is that from -- the Lame-Ass School of Spanking?" So much for light, after that.

Yikes -- even with the "white-spotting" on the right cheek, still not that red. I thought I was done with the final 10 that I could barely count because I was fairly incoherent. And I was done, for a while. But then...

ST and I are both creatures of habit. On occasion, I know what he's going to say before he says it, because I know his phrases. For example, when it's getting to be about that time, he'll take a breath, kinda sigh and say, "Well, I guess I ought to be going." Sometimes, I say it with him. Other times, like tonight, I repeat it, mimicking him.

Someday, I'll learn that tops don't like being mimicked. Maybe. Or not.

I got much redder with Round #2. Ouch.

It's going to be wonderfully ouchy year. :-)  ST's resolution is to keep my bottom red on a regular basis. I'll drink a cup of kindness to that! (What the hell does that mean, anyway?)

Speaking of 2012, did everyone have a nice New Year's Eve? John and I went to Old Town Monrovia and saw the movie "The Descendants," then we had dinner. The restaurant was lively with people partying, drinking and wearing NY's Eve hats, so we asked a friendly man at the next table to take our picture.

Later, we came home (and John's next-door neighbor was out for the night; blissfully quiet!), watched the Twilight Zone marathon until it was time for the ball to drop, then had champagne at midnight. I had one full flute and was pleasantly buzzed.

He'll kill me for posting this, but I just have to show him off. Here's John, preening in the shower on New Year's morning:



How many 53-year-old men do you know with a body like that? Mmmmmppph.

Of course, he took a shot of me that morning too. Bedraggled mop of hair, no makeup... and hickeys on both breasts. Hmmm. Shall I post it? If I get enough "yea" votes, I'll think about it.  ;-)

My second purchase from Cane-iac

OK, I confess -- I didn't get a new cane from Cane-iac.

I got two new canes. The Master's Choice JR 26" cane, and the OTK cane, which is 18". So now I have three total.

Some of you who find canes a bit horrifying are thinking, "WHY???" Others didn't even blink. John said, "Why didn't you order a whole bunch more? They break!" Oh, please. I'm breaking my own rule here as it is! What is it I always say? "If a top wants to use implements on me, he can damn well buy them himself!" Ah well. I guess ST shouldn't have to foot the bill for everything.

So tonight I got all three. Of course, two of them were the same thickness, so they felt similar. But the longer one was whippier. Overall, I'd say the 7/16" one is a bit thuddier and the 5/16" versions sting and bite more. And the 26" version whips more than the 18".

Oh, that's too damn specific for overall, Erica. OK. They all effing HURT! Is that better?

I confess, we didn't go for the "no warmup, more stripes" caning. In fact, we almost forgot the canes altogether, as ST went to town with his usual bag of tricks. But after I'd recovered a bit, I went to my bedroom and retrieved the canes. Yes, I'm insatiable. And I was curious.

ST had a grand old time doing the Three Bears routine with the three canes. Or should I say, the three bares. Although there was just one bare (mine).

I think the 5/16" version shows the striping a little better, don't you?

"Oh!" I said when we were winding down, "we need some product placement shots!"

No, this is NOT what I meant, smart-ass.

Sheesh. Everyone's a comedian.

Let's try this again, shall we? Here I am, happily showing off all three of my new toys.

As with the first time, quick delivery and excellent packaging. I am singing their praises once again. In fact, I posted something on Twitter about becoming a "Cane-iac Maniac," and Ms. Zelle happened to see it. Her latest creation:

(giggles) I'm quite the muse, aren't I?

I had a gyno appointment this morning (always a barrel of fun) and while I was there, they told me I should get a flu shot and a "dtap" shot (combination of diphtheria, tetanus and pertussis, AKA whooping cough). Ugh. I got one in each arm, and they warned me that I would have a fair amount of soreness, because they shoot directly into the muscle. Holy crap, they weren't kidding. Here's the good news: thanks to ST, I'm not thinking about the pain in my arms at the moment. :-)

My first purchase from Cane-iac

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Mercy

I hear that's a good movie. Never saw it, myself. Kathy Bates won the Best Actress Oscar for it. But that's not what I'm going to talk about.


EDIT, 11/22: Aaaaaggggghhh! It's just been brought to my attention that the name of the movie was Misery, not Mercy. Of course. I knew that. Chalk it up to being incredibly spacey last night. Sometimes, I try too hard to be clever and it backfires on me.

ST and I both had things on our minds tonight. We spent about a half-hour talking before we started to play, and I was up for a distraction and some fun.

We started out silly -- actually, we were silly for a long time. I was challenging him as per usual.

"You just can't keep your pants up, can you?"
"Not around YOU, I can't!"
"Why? Am I that hot?"
"You're full of hot air -- does that count?"

He sent me to my bedroom to get the heart-shaped paddle. "And leave those pants down!"

"OK," I said, leaving them down, but pulling up my panties.

"I said leave them down!"

"You said pants! Make up your mind!"

He had me OTK for a while, but then decided he liked me on my hands and knees. Figures.

I was NOT feeling the love...

Then it was time for the ottoman, where belt, strap and flogger commenced. Finally, I started to settle down. Stopped saying words and just made sounds. Got into the zone.

He gave me a long, hard flogging, interspersing the hard strikes with light, caressing slaps, keeping me wondering. It got progressively harder, and I struggled a little, but recovered each time. I wanted to go on.

I'm not sure what happened. Maybe my mind was askew tonight, because I was worried about something. Maybe it was the combination of hard AND fast. I'm not sure. But then he switched from the flogger to the heavy strap and really let me have it with that. Usually, I roll with that and am able to absorb it. Tonight, I couldn't. My brain couldn't process the pain fast enough and I wanted to scream to release, but of course I can't scream here. So the pain had nowhere to go, and that inner battle started up.

Take it. I can't. You have to. Don't be a wuss. I can't, I can't. Just push through it, it's almost over. NO.

"Mercy!" I cried. And of course, he stopped immediately.

I hate safe words. I hate using safe words. If I'm in a scene with a brute/jerk/Uber-Dom, then I refuse to use one, because my pride won't allow him to see that he broke me. And if I'm playing with someone I care about, I don't want to hurt his feelings or make him worry that he did something wrong. Either way, I feel like an ass if I mercy out.

But this was ST. I had nothing to prove to him. We were way beyond this kind of nonsense. So I said it.

He soothed me with lotion, rubbed my back, stroked my hair. He asked if I was OK, a couple of times. I assured him I was. He asked what had happened -- was it the pain? Was it too intense? I said I didn't know for certain. I just knew I'd gone as far as I could go, this time.

I apologized to him. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said. I felt like I needed to, anyway. I wanted him to know for sure that it was me, not something he did wrong. I would never, ever want him to think he did anything bad to me.

Silly, stubborn pride. Erica must maintain her bionic reputation! Oh, bull.

After I calmed down, I felt fine. Relaxed. Sleepy, almost. My mind was quiet for the first time today. And if it was possible, I felt even closer to him than before. Because I was able to say mercy to him, when I can't say it to anyone else.

"There is no such thing as a bad scene with you," I told him. I meant it.

Please hold good thoughts. ST is bringing his dog in for a bit of surgery tomorrow. I know this time tomorrow night, he'll feel very relieved and glad it's done. So best wishes for his beautiful boy.

Hmmmm... I do believe he accidentally took my heart paddle with him. Don't tell him I said so, but I hope he brings it back. :-)

Rough

Warning: Some of you might not like what I describe below.

But please believe me.... I sure did.

You guys pretty much have my number by now, right? You know what kinds of scenes I like -- I like to be playful, I'm sassy, I love the banter and push-pull. Overall, I am a feisty and spirited bottom.

But sometimes... I really, really like the damsel-in-distress scenario. I don't know why. It so completely goes against my personality. But damn, it's so hot.

I like the fear factor. It isn't real fear... I know real fear. I'm afraid of many things. No, it's the good kind of fear... the trepidation, the not knowing, but trusting that ultimately, you'll be all right because you're in the best of hands. It's the thrill and terror of free-falling, and yet knowing someone is there to catch you. It's knowing that he could do some terrible things to you if he wanted to... but he won't. He'll just make you think he will. For those moments, you believe.

I didn't know we were going there tonight. I don't think ST did either. It just sort of happened.

Our scene started like most others -- OTK warmup, me running my mouth. When he said, "You need a good spanking, don't you," I snarked, "What was your first clue, Einstein?" He then whaled so hard and fast with his tawse, I squeaked, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!!"

"Yeah, you will be," he said, fishing around in his bag. I thought he was going for a heavier implement. Then I felt him pull my arms back behind me. Then I felt the ropes. He tied my feet, too.

"Now you don't know WHAT kind of nasty things I'm going to do to you," he said coolly. "And there's nothing you can do about it, either. Is there!"

I went from smartass to shaking in a matter of seconds.

What happened after that is a blur of sensation and emotion. He used a lot of implements, I know that. Hard. But more than that, he teased me. He made me look at him. He leaned down and hissed in my ear. He tightened his fist in my hair. I was wearing a strappy sundress and he yanked the dress down past my shoulders.

He never raised his voice. I hate raised voices. But his smooth and steely tones made me tremble and put tears in my eyes.

It wasn't the same kind of crying as last week. Last week was pure emotional release. This was... I don't know what this was. Just feeling wound up, hyper-stimulated, beyond excited. I strained against the ropes and scrubbed my face into the bedspread, praying he wouldn't make me scream.

While I appreciate the intensity of tears during a scene, I am self-conscious about mine. As our beloved Pixie likes to say: "Tears are hot -- snot is not." In bondage, I couldn't wipe my face or my nose. When he leaned down to look into my face, I turned away.

"Are you trying to hide from me?" he asked. "Yes," I murmured.

"You can't hide from me. Maybe I should just put you in position so I can look at you," he said, grabbing my shoulder and rolling me onto my back.



I twisted my head to look away, rolled my eyes back. No, no, don't look at me. But I could still feel his eyes on me, his hands. Enjoying himself. Enjoying my discomfort.

Only with someone I trust so completely could I do this. He knew that. And he knew just what he could do, and what would violate me. The latter wouldn't happen. I knew that logically. But still... when he's in Dr. Hyde mode, he knows how to make me wonder.

Finally, he rolled me back over onto my belly and finished me off with the strap. "If I let you go, will you be a good girl?" I nodded vigorously. He untied me.

And just like that, the sweet and gentle ST reappeared.

Several minutes later, he asked how I was feeling.

"Very relaxed," I replied. After a moment, I added, "And absolutely amazed at the places I can go with you."

"Me too."

I suppose I could analyze and overanalyze why I want to go to this edgy territory sometimes. But I'd rather not. I'm just grateful I have the perfect companion who goes there with me. And when I go over the edge, he's my net.