The Shoe - part 1

During a brainstorming session with Jada for story starters, I came up with this: An argument over a shoe…not a pair of shoes, but a single shoe. The story has been rattling around in my head for awhile, but I’ve finally written the first half. For this story, I return to Melanie and Sara.

Melanie opened the door to the apartment she shared with Sara, juggling her purse, briefcase, and the bag of groceries she had picked up on her way home from work. Two steps into the entryway, she stumbled, the grocery bag tumbling to the floor. Mel caught herself with a hand on the wall, her shin barking painfully against the bench.

“Fuck, Sara! How many time do I have to remind you to pick up your shoes?” Mel shouted into the living room, kicking the offending shoe out of her way and walking through towards the office to deposit her things. “Pick them up,” she demanded, “And pick up the groceries.”

“Not my shoe,” Sara said lazily from the sofa. She was wrapped in a quilt, lounging in front of a mindless home design show.

“I beg your pardon!” Mel paused to stare at her girlfriend, “Which of us leaves her shoes strewn about?”

Sara tore her eyes away from the television, glanced back into the entryway and shook her head. “It’s not my shoe,” she announced, sinking back onto the sofa.

Mel dropped her things just inside the office, grabbing the leather paddle that hung beside the door, and stormed over to the television. She stabbed the power button, the screen flickering off. She stomped around the coffee table, yanked the quilt off Sara with one hand and grabbed Sara’s ear with her other hand.

Sara shrieked as she was pulled to her feet, “Melanie!”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sara. You endanger both of us, leaving such stumbling hazards everywhere. This isn’t the first time! Get over the sofa.”

“But Mel,” Sara began, but Mel cut her off by tightening her hold on Sara’s ear.

“Now,” Melanie demanded.

Sara reluctantly got into position, her legs spread wide and her bottom thrust out. Melanie laid into the presented backside with the paddle, striking hard from the first swat. Paddling so hard, cold, quickly brought Sara to tears.

Melanie reached forward, grabbing her girlfriend by the hair and pulling her to her feet again. “Pick up the fucking shoe,” she growled.

Sara sniffled, rubbing the back of her hand quickly across her streaming eyes before walking over to the offending shoe. She picked up the shoe by the heel, flipping the distinctive red sole at her girlfriend. “It’s not my fucking shoe,” she announced, vindicated.

Melanie stared at the Christian Louboutin pump she had purchased only the weekend before, a splurge for her birthday. She hadn’t even taken the shoes out of the box yet. Melanie took a deep, steading breath before she asked, “Sara, where is the other one?”

Work Startle - part 1

I don’t usually write much about my vanilla life, but this has been building for awhile and getting progressively stranger, so I have to share. Mind you, I’m out to my family but I am not out to anyone in my professional life, friends included. This particular “startle” has grown into a multi-part saga. I'm going to post this in parts as a Tuesday feature until I run out of material.

A bit of background: My co-worker, J, is an avid table-tennis player. (I’d call the game ping-pong, but I understand that one stops doing that at a certain level.) He’s involved in a club, gives lessons, and plays in national tournaments. Occasionally, I’ll even hear him practicing in his office. Due to his frequent play and an old injury, he uses a custom paddle that he typically calls a “racket”. The grip is totally different from an ordinary racket.

Recently, a restaurant opened in town that has ping-pong tables (can you really call them table-tennis tables with a straight face?) in addition to pool tables. With a couple other co-workers, we’ve started playing over lunch about once a week. I’m nowhere near J’s level, but I can easily beat anyone else we play with.

The last time we went, J came into my office still digging through his gym bag. Giving up on his search, he looked up at me exasperated and said, “Darn it! I forgot my paddle. Now I won’t be able to beat you!”

Too bad he didn’t mean that the way any of my spanko friends would have meant it.

KC Spanks Club

I haven't died, or even melted. This summer has been terribly busy, as summers tend to be. And I've found that the extreme heat triggers my migraines (lovely). But I'm making a renewed effort to blog. Feel free to pester me about posting more frequently.

[picture taken after the party by Hank]

I attended a great evening party hosted by KC Spanks Club a couple weeks ago (yes, I know it's taken me forever to write about it; I should be spanked...or something). Over forty people attended - such a wonderful, diverse group of people.  Even though I always enjoy the parties when I go, the evening parties are a struggle for me.

I've developed a routine for a weekend party that begins months in advance getting airline tickets, hotel reservations, and exchanging emails and FetLife messages to get all my plans in place. About a week before the party, I'll go into a tizzy about clothing, more particularly my lack thereof. I typically threaten at least once to go without, before I finally settle down. Then there is a last minute flurry of packing, racing to the airport, and making all my connections that leaves me little time to contemplate what I'm about to do before I'm swept into the party.

For a single evening party, I'm lacking the transition. I'm at work, then I need to jump right into party-mode. That's a difficult jump for me. In all honesty, I probably would not have gone to this party except that I got a lovely note on FetLife that encouraged me to put aside my nerves and go. And I am SO glad I went!

Mr. and Mrs. Powertool put on a very nice demo. I was particularly impressed by Mrs. Powertool's response to a (somewhat snarky) question from the audience - she succinctly explained that her husband is a bottom, not a submissive. And she gave a really good lecture on the differences between the two. I wish I could remember exactly what her response was, because it was one of the best I've heard.

I have to thank Alicia Panettiere and Hank for helping me get into the party mood. I've met Alicia several times, but never had the chance to play with her before. She's an excellent top! Hank, who I met for the first time at this party, was instrumental in instigating that first scene and I thank him for that! There's nothing like a spanking to help me relax into a party. We enjoyed banter and continued play throughout the party - with both of them spanking me, what's not to love?

I also had the opportunity to play with Rich Spankman, who organizes the KC Spanks Club parties. As the event planner, he's always so busy that I hesitate to ask him to play. But I'd made up my mind at this party that I would ask him...then he beat me to it! That is, he asked me first. He also "beat" me, in the context of giving me a very good spanking; but that's the idea, isn't it? I've seen his variety of spanking methods in demos before, but it was even more fun to experience them!

I had a great scene with Joe. Despite both of us traveling to Atlantic City for Boardwalk Badness and attending parties in KC, we've never gotten the chance to play before. I do love a man with heavy hands who knows how to use them!

I also got the chance to play with Joe's wife, Michelle. Hank warned me about her "Sunday" hairbrush - so named because she can't use it on anyone at a weekend party until Sunday, because it tends to finish the bottom for the weekend - but I simply had to try it. And, of course, I loved it! (ColoDom is right, if you looked up "pain slut" in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of me.)

[close-up taken of the lines from the "Sunday" brush, taken by Hank...thanks again!]

Thanks again to everyone I played with and talked to at the party! I had a wonderful time and I'm looking forward to the next event.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Sunday/Monday)

I woke up uncharacteristically early on Sunday morning, a good thing since I had agreed to meet Miss Chris for breakfast but forgotten to set an alarm. We were able to meet in the coffee shop in the hotel and catch up. We didn't have a chance to play this weekend, but sometimes talking is just as important. I caught up with Jada and Craig for a coffee (tea for me!) run before CP Court started.

As always, Strict Dave put on an awesome CP Court. It's so much fun to watch! The only charges I had thought to bring were against the Honorable Strict Dave - you can read about the incident here - and I'd decided that asking him to recuse might be too complicated. Or too hazardous to my backside, whichever. Instead, I was able to watch and enjoy the show.

We went in search of food again; this time ending up at the Rainforest Cafe. Craig, ever thoughtful (or giving in to my childish pleading) picked up the children's activity books and crayons for Jada and I. I spent the entire time coloring, and not finishing, a single picture. There is a bit of a repressed artist inside me and an OCD one at that. Jada was far more creative, completing a hilarious story about her healthy eating habits (which included lots of chocolate, ice cream, and everything she is allergic to) and frequent exercise (which included fighting with me).

Though Jada and I don't fight - I've mentioned before how we make such excellent roommates - we did discover (or rediscover, perhaps) a love of wrestling and resistance play. The weekend was sprinkled with such impromptu scenes with Criag. It's a change from typical party play, which tends to be along the lines of dive over a willing lap, but it added variety to the weekend. Of course, it's not something I would engage in with any random top, but with someone I know well and trust? Great fun.

After lunch, I caught up with ColoDom for a great scene. We have an awesome dynamic, as long as I plan ahead and remember not to wear pink panties! He doesn't put up with any of my bullshit logic, which really makes it fun. I do love a Top that I can't argue circles around!

Jada, Craig and I had opted out of the harbor cruise that evening. Instead we found dinner (I talked them into returning to the BBQ place with the amazing sweet potato fries) and enjoyed a quiet evening catching up with occasional wrestling matches. When the harbor cruise returned, we headed upstairs for one last night of suite parties.

I was lucky to catch second scene with both C and Glenn - Sunday night is the perfect time for such things. No longer worried about "saving my bottom for the weekend," I can simply play. I may have enjoyed the conversation and laughter with other bottoms on the bed just as much as the spanking (I really cannot be blamed for enjoying banter and discussion with ColoDom's delightful wife, can I?), something that Glenn in particular took exception to (I can't imagine why, though it may have had something to do with the fact that I was laughing through his spanking). He promised that I would have something to remember for my trip home and lit into my backside with a strap.

He was right. When Jada and I flopped into our seats on the first leg of our flights home, I sat on the seatbelt. Not a big deal, this happens all the time. But even after I had fastened the seatbelt about my waist ("low and tight around my hips"...I do follow directions occasionally), I still felt as though I was sitting on the uneven surface of the seatbelt. Ghost seatbelts...or the ghost of one heck of a strapping from Glenn.

Craig and I managed one last scene that night - the sort of short, intense scene that caps a weekend perfectly for me. It was the kind of scene I'm only comfortable engaging in with him - fast and harsh, but he reads me so well. I've a few scattered bruises from that adventure, but it's a wonderful reminder of a weekend well spent.

Overall, an awesome, incredible weekend. My apologies to anyone I've left out due to my failure to get permission to include you on my blog before the weekend was over. And a special thanks to everyone I had the opportunity to play with! So many amazing people attended, making this party the best yet!

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Friday)

If I thought going to bed somewhat early Thursday night would allow me to wake up early on Friday, I was wrong. (Why doesn't the time difference work both ways? I have to go to bed early AND wake up late?) I woke up anxiously awaiting the arrival of my roommate and good friend, Jada. She had flown all night to meet us in Atlantic City. That time between Shadowlane and Boardwalk Badness felt like an eternity this year! We caught up with Craig over lunch, meeting several friends along the way. It begins to feel like a party when you notice that you recognize several people walking down the Boardwalk or eating in a restaurant.

At the Happy Hour Registration, I was able to catch up with so many party friends that I cannot begin to list them for fear of leaving several people out. One of the best parts of Boardwalk Badness is the number of casual events with time to talk to old friends and meet new ones. I was especially glad to catch up with Brad and get the chance to sneak away to play, because he was cutting his party short due to other commitments. We always have such a wonderful time!

Jada and I, with our myriad of food allergies, were forced to venture outside the party for dinner. SSNY provides excellent food, but we simply aren't able to enjoy it. Instead, we gathered a group and went to a BBQ place inside a neighboring casino. While most of the group stopped to shop at the taffy store, Ty and I slipped off for a scene before the evening spanking party. It was great to catch up over dinner and get the chance to play. The perfect prelude to the spanking party to follow.

Somehow, I'd gotten myself volunteered into the Vendor's Contest as one of the Tanner Reformatory Pajama Girls. I do not know how I get myself talked into such things - I'm totally the opposite of a natural salesperson. But some of the girls suggested offering to allow buyers to try out their new purchase on our bottoms...turns out I can ask someone to spank me. And whatever you've heard about the outfits, the pajamas were "cute" enough that I got several requests to wear them for later scenes - all of which I politely declined.

Despite my best efforts and those of my teammates, we lost. I think there are two explanations for this: (1) we were too busy actually selling things to get our sales counted, and (2) we didn't cheat as well as the other team. The losing team was spanked on stage for 30 seconds. I was "lucky" enough to get Strict Dave as my top. (I do consider myself lucky, even if the man's got an iron hand.) More luck followed when the timekeeper lost the stopwatch, or some such nonsense. It was fun to play with Dave, even for such a brief scene.

After the on-stage spanking, Mike Tanner lined the seven of us up for another spanking, this time with the Licking Stick. There was something about picking a number, but we didn't pick well as a team. Should have listened to Aurora on that one! That Licking Stick is painful!

Soon enough, the vendor's fair was closing down and we were headed up to the suites for more conversation, slipping away for a few scenes. But still being on CST, and being the sort who turns into a pumpkin early in the evening to begin with, I turned in early again.

Boardwalk Badness Weekend (Thursday)

Thinking that I would write and post anything so soon after I got home was obviously over-ambitious on my part. Coming home, on a high from a party, I always forget how quickly drop will hit me...and hit hard.

Weather delays made travel on Thursday hectic at best. I made my connection in Nashville only due to luck. Although I was originally to remain on the plane for a 2 o'clock departure, we were kicked off the plane due to the length of the delay going into Philadelphia. When I got off the plane, the flight boards said that my flight was delayed until 4:15. I sat down to have lunch in a café. The music was loud enough that I couldn’t hear any flight announcements, a fact that I did not notice until later.

Just after getting my food, I noticed that the woman at the table next to me cursing at her iPhone. Usually, I would ignore such behavior but I looked over at her. She immediately explained that her flight was supposed to leave at 2, but had been delayed to 4:15, and she had just gotten a text saying that the flight was boarding. I asked if she was going to Philadelphia…of course she was. Suddenly, instead of having two hours to enjoy my lunch, I was scrambling to get my check, pay for my lunch, and get back to my gate.

I managed to get on the plane on time, but I was somewhat scattered. A vaguely familiar man sat next to me on the plane. He asked where I was headed and I answered, “Philadelphia.” He appeared startled, which seemed odd to me considering that the plane was headed there. But when he responded to my return question with “Atlantic City,” I began to wonder. Such curiosity did not keep me from falling asleep, however, and I spent the flight catching up on my sleep. (As usual, I had left my packing until the last minute and stayed up far too late the night before.)

Just before we landed, we began making small talk again. He mentioned that he had seen my frantic flight from the restaurant in Nashville, which made me wonder if I had really made a fool of myself. He again mentioned that he was going to Atlantic City. When I asked what was in Atlantic City he said, “Oh, I’m…getting together…with some...friends.”

Universal code, right? As you might have guessed, I ran into him the next day at the hotel. As it was, I hurried off the plane to make arrangements to get to Atlantic City. I got in too late for registration that night, but I was able to catch up with Craig over dinner. We played a bit and I turned into a pumpkin, as I am inclined to do entirely too early in the evening.

Delays and other excuses

I've just gotten home from a wonderful weekend in Atlantic City, at Boardwalk Badness. I'll begin posting my party report tomorrow night...and I'll get the next chapter of Britannic Honeymoon posted next week.