This is the final chapter of the SCONY Mountain Weekend that I recently attended. You can read Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 at those links. I believe I left off with being thoroughly spanked and falling into bed in a state of exhaustion. That sounds about right. Kinda how all my nights ended there, lol. Now to Sunday. Sunday is when things start to get sad. A lot of people say their goodbyes and head home, though I always stay over until Monday. I kind of wish everyone would leave at once so that I only had to cry like a fool at one given time rather than when each friend makes me tear up all over again. I hate goodbyes. Especially knowing it’ll be nearly 7 months, if not longer for some of them, before we’ll meet again.
Sunday started with a pajama breakfast. I went in full Peeps gear, of course. Showed off my new awesome shirt and flip flops which got a raised eyebrow from a few, but a laugh from most. Quirky Lea, that’s me. Oooh, name tag idea for next time… One top who really hates Peeps, though I can’t imagine why, grabbed the flip flop from me and smacked it against his hand and said “Yes, that should work.” Um, no. Anyhow, after breakfast some people started to leave and some of us sat around in the lobby or out on the porch chatting. There was a mention that there will be an 80’s theme for the April weekend. I was having trouble thinking of anything awesome to come from the 80’s, other than myself of course. Then I had the Growing Pains theme song stuck in my head for a while. Has anyone realized how spanko-y the beginning of that song is? “Show me that smile again/Don’t waste another minute on your cryin’/We’re nowhere near the end/The best is ready to begin..” Uh, sound a bit toppy to anyone else? Just sayin’. Yes, my mind can even ruin the innocence that was Growing Pains.
Mr. A was ready to assist me in my first caning experience. *gulp* We headed up to Room 10 and he showed me his three canes. (Yes, the pic at the left shows 4 but Google images can only do so much.) He described a bit about the attributes of each but I honestly don’t remember all of what he explained because my heart was pounding in my ears. Despite the glowing reviews I’d heard from others and witnessing a caning for myself the night before where everyone survived, this was still quite nerve-wracking. He picked up the cane that was supposed to be the easiest on me (I have no basis for comparison and certainly wasn’t going to ask for one, so will take his word on that) and my jeans came down and I bent over the desk. He said I was going to get 3 lighter strokes followed by 3 a little harder and he wanted me to count after each one, partly so he could hear in my voice how I was doing. Okay, I can do this. It can’t be that terrible. It can’t be worse than death, right? Well that’s silly, no need to compare anything to death. There’s a whole room of people downstairs if I need someone to take me to the hospital. Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! That was the stroke? I’m okay! “One, sir.” Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! “Two, sir.” Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! This isn’t that bad at all! “Three, sir.” Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Oww that definitely stung a little more. “Four, sir.” Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! “Five, sir.” Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! “Six, sir.” I made it! It’s over! Hallelujah! I gave him a hug and thanked him for a lovely introduction to caning. I think I thanked him. Mr. A, if you are reading this, thank you! 😀 I actually wanted a bit more but figured I should pace myself. I don’t doubt that caning can be very severe, but I could now say that it doesn’t have to be horrible. “Like” is not usually a word I’d use to describe any implement, but yeah, I kinda liked it.
We rejoined the group downstairs and I eagerly shared with a friend that I’d survived my first caning. People were continuing to check out and head home. My friend S left and I hugged her goodbye and so began my first crying spell of the day. Some people were off packing, others napping, some of us lounging around the lobby. Some people were supposed to take other people to lunch but disappeared. Ahem… Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. R come into the room holding a cane. That was a terrifying image. I’d never seen him holding a cane before and I knew he was there for me. Maybe if I just return to my conversation and don’t look directly at him he’ll disappear… Nope, not working. He fixed his gaze on me and beckoned me over to him. The butterflies were in high gear now. This is something that had been mentioned a few weeks prior but it was apparently happening now. *gulp* “Get upstairs,” he said when I was at his side. *double gulp* I went back up to the room I had not so long ago exited and he soon followed and shut the door. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked. That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one. I said yes, though I still felt as if I might lose my breakfast. I resumed the familiar position bent over the desk, jeans falling to my ankles. Caning is such a mindfuck, pardon my language. I can’t think of a more descriptive or accurate word. There’s a whole psychology to it and it immediately puts me in a certain headspace. It’s scary as hell in that you don’t know when the stroke is going to come, you just keep feeling the tap, tap, tap, swiiish, nope it was a fake, more tapping, swiiish, craaack! He said that some people flinch at just hearing the swiiish through the air before feeling the stroke, and I’m pretty sure I was reacting the same by the end of the scene. I’m not sure how many strokes I received, but they were very, very stingy. “No smart comments?” he asked. “I think we’ve finally found something that gets to you.” “Yes, sir” I replied. Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! “Owww owww!” I struggled to keep my position over the desk. “Do you want me to count these?” I asked. “If I want you to count, then I’ll tell you to count,” he replied. Internal sigh. “Yes, sir.” We reached the final six of the best, which I still wasn’t counting out loud, and wasn’t going to ask about again. Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! “Aaah ooow!” I stamped my feet. (Why do I do that, as if moving my feet around is going to dissipate the pain?) Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! Tap, tap, tap, tap, swiiish, craaack! It’s over. I survived yet again! I’m invincible, bahahaha! (Okay, maybe I didn’t think the last part at that moment.) He gave me a big hug and we rejoined the group downstairs. I don’t think how gingerly I sat down was noticed at all…
Soon after, Mr. A and R were saying their goodbyes and I cried again. My crying voice never allows me to get out all the things I want to say so I always have to send texts and emails later on, expressing how much I enjoyed the time spent together and what a good time I had. Some of us headed down to the lounge to get things ready for hanging out there later that night and we all regrouped for dinner a while after. After dinner, I had an appointment with Mr. L. He’d recently added a razor strap to his collection that I was curious to try. (Remember what I said before about my head wanting more when my bottom isn’t always feeling the same way? Lol.) I laid across the bed as I got 30 with the strap. 30 because there were 30 things on the what NOT to say list. Internal sigh. Well, a strap is a strap and that was twice that weekend that I picked out a strap. I really don’t understand what goes through my head sometimes… After that, we headed down to the lounge to hang out. Our numbers had dwindled and things were starting to slow down. For most of the night, I sat at the bar in the company of J, T, and other T in a constant fit of laughter. The people who work there are unbelievably awesome and so much fun. I look forward to seeing some of them as much as I do my fellow spanko friends. I did play once more that night with B, my favorite Canadian top. After my last blog post mentioning him, he pointed out that he’s the only Canadian top I know. That’s true, but totally beside the point. After he spanked me and noted the condition of my bottom, he hopped on the “I need to get to you on Thursday next time” train. It seems a lot of people are thinking that… Some of us hung out until it was last call and then I headed back to my room to go to bed.
Monday had arrived. Those of us remaining had breakfast and then I had to go pack. Why is it that things don’t fit in your suitcase as easily when you are ready to head home as they did when you left? I had picked up a shirt and pair of flip flops, but I’m not sure how it’s always so much more difficult. I didn’t even bother folding stuff this time, just jammed it all in there, forced the zipper shut, and was ready to go. Mr. C was still figuring out how on Earth to fit everything into the van with the additional two passengers we’d be going back with. I wandered around to find the others and people were trying to pack things up and disassemble the party space. A few of us started grabbing things from the woodshed to store away and it was just me and M in there when she yelled for Mr. R to come back and bring the FES. *gulp* I was bent over the saddle as they switched off wielding the strap onto my tender flesh. You ever go to the dentist and wonder why they have conversations with you and ask questions when you aren’t really in a position to answer? I feel that way with spankings sometimes. “Did you enjoy yourself this weekend?” THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! “Oooww, Yes I did, ma’am!” THWAP! THWAP! I’m not very good at answering under duress. After a few final hard smacks from each of them, it ended with hugs all around.
We headed back to help move things down to another room. K left and I totally lost it and just sobbed saying goodbye to her. I knew we were getting down to the final few moments. Someone told me not to waste the last little bit of time crying, but I can’t help it! I wasn’t freed from the grasp of tops quite yet. Before we left, Mr. L grabbed me and a paddle and took me in the next room over some disagreement as to which country he was from. Just when I thought I was safe… A few minutes after that we really did have to get on the road. I cried and hugged and cried and hugged, making my way around the room for goodbyes, the final ones being to Ms. M and Mr. R. Then we were off, making our trek back to NYC. No screws were lost for my return flight so I made it out when I was supposed to and headed home. J picked me up from the airport but I was still too emotional to go into much about the weekend without starting to cry again. I kind of feel bad for him, I go to these things and the wife that returns to him is a total emotional basketcase with a purple bottom. Lol. Bless him for putting up with it. And that concludes my trip. Thank you to all who were a part of it and added to a wonderful time. And thank you to all for reading and following along with my adventures.