Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the month “February, 2011”

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 2/25

Yippee! It’s Chross and CHoS day! 😀

WHAT did you just say to me?

First up:

well it nice coming accross your profile and i think it really intresting… You want to be treated right. You want to be valued and understood. You want to be free to express yourself and you understand the world around you. You are strong and pasionate, intense and gentle. You are attracted to a man I will like to know more about is my e-mail adres
(yawn) And how many women did we send this to today?
i cant beleave how hot and sexy you are in your photo i love it so much.nothing is as nice as you are like so hot.the pleasure in you is so feels beautyful … seem like such a cool lady ,i know im maybe not your typ but i had to say this anyways either way.
(wrestling open the Advil bottle) Maybe not my typ? Honey, you’re definitely not my typ.
This one’s from a guy who noticed I have pictures of broken implements:
As a hobby I make paddles of different types and different materials. If you look at my pictures is a small sample of what I do. I makes some of birch plywood that won’t break, even on the hardest ass….
You makes? Good for you, Popeye. But I yam not interested.

I think you have a great smile and a perfect – – – thought I was going to say “ass” didn’t you, great bottom. Would love to be able to caress and feel both, before spanking the ladder.

Ouch! Better sand that ladder first or you’ll get splinters.
And if I didn’t think I was going to hell before, I sure do now:

wat a desperate look all of u sinful funky its shall all fall oneday for u all are plagues of moral distruction

(laughing) Ah, yes, I am a plague. Every time I open my mouth, locusts fly out. My dear, if you think my li’l old spanking fetish is the cause of moral distruction [sic], you need to get off your knees and get out more. And your first stop should be night school to take Remedial English.
Nothing like a good snark to start off the weekend! I admit, I’m a little out of sorts today, feeling prickly and hard-edged. John was supposed to have today off… not only does he not have today off, but he is working tomorrow morning as well. So I’m not going to his place tonight. It’s not that I’m upset about staying home this evening — it’s going to be rainy and cold anyway. But I’m worried about him. All that stuff he said about turning over a new leaf and not working so hard seems to have fallen by the wayside. I guess once a workaholic, always a workaholic? (sigh) I know that fretting over him changes nothing and just annoys him, so I need to stop.
So I try to distract myself and go on FetLife last night, attempting to have some fun, and all I see on the activity feed are graphic, gross and extreme photos, with severely thrashed bottoms, tops bragging about having made them that way, and other bottoms oohing and ahhing over how pretty they are. You know… I wish I could understand this. I wish I knew why it offends me so. I mean, these are clearly consensual scenes and the bottoms aren’t upset about them. So why should I be? Ack. Perhaps I should stay off FL for a little while and clear my head. When I’m in judgment mode, I know I’m a bit off and I need to be quiet until it passes.

Tomorrow will be fine — John and I will be seeing an old friend for dinner and catching up, so that should be fun. And then before I know it, it will be Monday again. 🙂

I leave you with a baffling search keyword phrase I found in my stats this morning:


Say it with me, kids — WTF??????

Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

Wednesday potpourri

Today, I’d like to call your attention to one of the funniest blogs I’ve ever read, and that is not hyperbole. (Oh, look it up. :-Þ) Our friend Zelle has outdone herself, writing her tale of woe over two weeks of, er, a certain privilege denied. The pictures alone will have you falling off your chair. If you haven’t read this yet, hunker down, go check it out and prepare to howl. Avoid sipping liquids or eating solid food during this time, unless you have someone nearby to apply the Heimlich maneuver.

Second, a few clips from The Wife and the Prostitute, one of the vignettes I shot with Paul and Sarah, is up on Sarah Gregory Spanking, which is her video pay site. I watched the first three mini-clips yesterday. You know, when you’re in the midst of shooting these things and they’re unscripted, you don’t remember what was said until you see it later. Damn, but it’s funny! Sarah is hilarious as the hooker — I laughed my butt off watching her protest as Paul spanks me, “Yo! I am not getting paid to watch this kinky s*** go down!”

Usually by Wednesday, I’m fully recovered by Monday night’s activities. Today, however, I find myself still quite tender, deep into the muscle. Now I don’t know if that’s because of working out the past two days or that other workout, but it’s quite pleasing. 🙂

Countdown to the Oscars on Sunday! Who’s watching them? Who’s seen what? John and I are not big moviegoers, so we’ve seen a whopping two of the nominated flicks, but they were the biggies: The King’s Speech and The Social Network. I’m casting my vote for Colin Firth. Holy moly, that man is yummy. Oh… and yeah, he gave a good performance too. 😀

I’m scattered today. Can you tell? Spending way too much time on FetCrack… er, Life, getting into controversies over icky photos, arguing with asshats and perving on hot pictures… BAD! Focus, Erica. Time to stop babbling and go do something productive.

Monday, Monday….

I’ll have you all know that I am totally squirming in my chair as I write this. All I want to do is go get horizontal in front of my TV and stop sitting. My bottom feels like I sat on a beehive. But I have a blog to write. People want to read about Erica getting her a$& beat. Would I let you guys down?

Feel sorry for me? Didn’t think so. Pffffffttttttttttt.

New Guy was able to come over a bit earlier (around 5:00) because he had the day off. We sat on my couch chatting for a bit, but then he got up, pulled a chair away from the dining room table, plunked it down in the living room and sat on it, looking at me expectantly. I feigned ignorance. “You want to sit over there?”

“Yes, I do. And I think you should come join me.”

I didn’t agree and stayed right where I was.

“Are you going to make me come and get you?” Damn right I was. And he did.

Turned out he had some issues with my “proper behavior during a spanking” blog. Gee, there’s a surprise. And when he gave me a hard whack with the tawse and I blurted out a four-letter word, he didn’t approve of that either. Then, after I screeched, “Jesus Christ!”, he said I was taking the Lord’s name in vain.

“Geeeez… when I say something right, will you let me know??” I snapped. Pick, pick, pick.

He told me I deserved this; I protested and said I did not. To which he’d replied, “Well then, what do you think you deserve? A cupcake??”

(Yeah! Sounds good to me! Chocolate, please.)

He didn’t agree and said I should say I was sorry.

I looked up at him thoughtfully. “You know, you say ‘sorry’ funny.”

Well, he does! I pronounce it sahr-y, and that’s the way I hear everyone else say it too. He, however, pronounces it sore-y. Freaking Minnesotans.

After that comment, he stopped talking and commenced walloping. After a looooong stretch of his hand, tawse and one of his leather straps, he asked, “Well, are you sorry?”

I paused, took a deep breath, turned my head and looked at him, smiling down at me. “Not… in… the… least,” I hissed.

In response, he picked me up as if I weighed nothing, hauled me across the room and dumped me on the ottoman. The heavy strap and the paddle came out. “I don’t want any more smart remarks from you, do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “From now on, I’ll make stupid remarks.”

Sheesh, you try to be agreeable…

But soon, I began to weaken and my sharp tongue dulled. And soon after that, I was muffling my screams in the cushion. I tried to be stubborn, tried to resist, but of course, I ended up hollering, “OK, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He knelt down next to me, gently rubbling my bottom and back. “Shall I go get the lotion?” he asked.

I wasn’t ready. Don’t know why, but I needed just a little more. “No,” I said, “you’ll just use it and then start up again so it’ll hurt more!”

“Would I do that?”

“Yes, Mr. Fink, you would!”

(Mr. Fink?? Where the hell did I come up with that?)

He shook his head. “And here I thought I was done. Go get that heart-shaped paddle.” Remember, folks, I’m not stupid. This was not the time to say “Get it yourself.” I retrieved it and handed it to him, resisting the urge to drop it at his feet. I was in enough trouble for pulling my pants and panties back up after I left the room. “You leave those down until I tell you it’s OK to pull them back up, do you understand?”

Yup… I asked for it. I brought that paddling on myself. But holy gawd, did it hurt.

He was sweet, then. After I’d returned to Earth and asked, “What would you like to do now?”, he smiled at me and said, “I wanna buy you a cupcake!” 😀

I laughed and asked if he’d make it a bowl of soup instead; I was starving. We decided to go to dinner. I first took him to a Thai place near my place, but it turned out they were closed on Mondays. So we went back to the deli where we’d gone before, and I happily chowed down on comfort food — a big bowl of chicken matzo ball soup. He had a pizza.

Was I well-behaved during dinner?

When we got back to my place, he put me over a chair and strapped me with his belt. Does that answer your question?

Ah, don’t worry, I wasn’t really mad. We watched a DVD (Shadow Lane’s At Your Service), got into a tickle fight (have you ever heard of anyone being ticklish around their knees? He is!) and of course I ended up back over his knee. I got away from him and he was chasing me around the room with my pants down — and that looked so funny, he had to get a picture of it. Yes, I’m wearing my glasses.

I really don’t think he was showing the proper gratitude. After all, he was yawning and I was concerned about his drive home, so I was just trying to wake him up. It worked, didn’t it? Well?

Ah, I’m done now. I can go put on some soft jammies and sprawl out, watch the Tonight show, eat some chocolate. The heater is on — warm body, warm bottom. Happy, happy Monday. 🙂

Repost: By Special Request!

Over a year ago, I posted the following entry on my old MySpace blog. (Jeeez, now that I’ve been here for a while, I can’t believe I blogged on that site for so long. Blech!) I also put it on FetLife, but my buddy Zelle has requested that I repost this on here, for those who aren’t Fet members and for my new readers who didn’t see it the first time. Sooooo… if you’re already seen this, my apologies, and you can blame it on Zelle! 😉  (Kidding, honey!) And if it’s new to you, hope you enjoy it.

So, without further ado, here is a repost of Proper Behavior During a Spanking: Erica Style. You can consider it another installment of Erica’s Helpful Hints.

I’ve been reading more blogs lately. A while ago, a snippet from a DD (Domestic Discipline) blog was posted in a blog entry called This and That, a collection of snippets from several blogs. Following are five rules, according to DD/HoH (Head of Household) practitioners, for proper behavior during a spanking:

1. One must lie still during chastisement, and not attempt to wiggle out of the way of the spanking.

2. One must not try to block with her hands. This is so dangerous, especially if an implement is being used.

3. Unless you are asked a question you should remain silent, other than repentant tears and sobs.

4. Do not attempt to fight a punishment. If you are told to lie over your HOH’s knee so he may begin, just do it.

5. For HOH’s: lecture, lecture, lecture. This is one of the most critical things in DD. A lecture can make a difference between tears and stoic behavior.

Mind you, I am not posting these to ridicule them. Clearly, there are folks who follow these rules and believe in them. Whatever works. However, for those of us who are on the not-so-submissive side, these rules are not applicable. Therefore, as a public service, I hereby offer my own version of How To Behave During a Spanking.

1. You are not a sack of potatoes. Kick those legs. Pound the carpet/bed/couch. Squirm. Wriggle. You’re going to get spanked anyway, so why make it so damned easy for the top?

2. Reaching back with your hands is not a good idea. Not because it annoys the top, but your hand might get clobbered and that really hurts. So keep them in front of you. Of course, if a wayward elbow or fist happens to connect with the top’s shin, that’s OK.

3. This is a spanking, not a visit to the library. You don’t have to be quiet. Use your voice. Scream and yell. Fuss, cuss and whine. The only exception to this is if your top asks you to repeat some ridiculous phrase, like “Thank you, Sir.” Then you should remain silent. Or improvise. If you’re clever, you can make “Fuck you, Sir” sound sort of like “Thank you, Sir.” They’re both one-syllable words that end with k.

4. Put up a little resistance beforehand. Why should you accept your fate with such stoicism? It’s going to hurt either way; at least you’ll have the pride of knowing you tried to avoid it. Argue, reason, plead, refuse to cooperate. Don’t remove your own clothing. If he wants anything up/down/off, he can do it himself.

5. Tops: Scold all you like. Just bear one thing in mind — no matter what you say, all we hear is blah blah blah.

6. Bonus tip: Implements are wretched things and deserve no respect whatsoever. If one is placed within your reach, fling it across the room. If one is broken on you, gloat and cheer. If your top asks you to kiss one, blow raspberries on it.

So, what did we learn? How about a little pop quiz?

1. When a top asks you, “Why am I spanking you?”, you answer: a. Because I was a bad girl, Sir. b. I don’t know. c. Because you’re an ass.

2. If a top says, “Stop kicking!” you: a. Stop kicking immediately. b. Tearfully plead, “But it hurts, Sir, I can’t help it.” c. Snap, “Stop spanking!”

3. When a top tells you to pull down your panties, you: a. Immediately pull them down, and take off your dress for good measure. b. Look at him pleadingly and say, “Please, not my panties!” c. Snap, “Pull them down yourself! Is your hand broken?”

4. If a top asks, mid-spanking, if you have anything to say, you reply: a. I’m sorry, Sir. b. Please, no more, it hurts. c. Yes. Go f*** yourself.

5. If a top bruises/blisters his hand spanking you, you: a. Kiss his hand, then promptly fetch him an implement to finish the job. b. Promise you’ll be better, so next time he won’t have to spank so hard. c. Laugh your head off and call him Edward Sissyhands.

I don’t think I need to post an answer key — y’all know me well enough to know what the right answers are.

No need to thank me for this PSA, folks. I am here for you.

Friday mash-up

I’m all over the place today. First, to wrap up my Gym Rant post from earlier this week — I swear, the Gym Gods read it and punished me. On Wednesday, when I was in my usual class, a man came in late and 1) stood right in front of me, blocking my view of the instructor; 2) proceeded to do nearly everything incorrectly and with horrible form, and 3) was out of sync with the rest of the class. Can’t people tell when 30 people are moving a different way than they are?? Then yesterday, in another class, the microphone wasn’t working and the instructor didn’t like having to shout, so she was off her game. She still blasted the music so you couldn’t hear her, and since I’m blind as a bat and don’t wear my glasses when working out, I couldn’t see what she was doing either. Arrrrgghhhh! I give up. The things I go through to beat back the ravages of Father Time. Some days, I wish my vanity would take a hike.

On to more positive things: Happy Chross Friday! And congratulations to all the co-bloggers who were listed today as well. Is it my imagination, or is Chross’s list growing longer? So many great choices!

You know, some might get sick of my exultations every time I make this illustrious list. But I can’t help it — it’s fun! It’s flattering. And it’s such a kick to watch my hits soar. Yes, I am an attention whore. I admit it. I joke about it. I invite people to giggle at it. It is what it is. But I know I’m not alone. 🙂

Checking my stats yesterday, I notice I was getting hundreds of hits from a bondage blog. Huh? I went to look, and sure enough, my “Stranger” entry had been quoted in a blog about various aspects of bondage. Interesting note: The blog author had set up the entry by saying that I’d posted my blog about Abduction Guy’s pictures to put ideas into New Guy’s head. Actually, I didn’t. Not consciously, anyway. I was genuinely bewildered and rattled about my reactions to those photos, and I wanted to talk about it. But I sure am glad it turned out the way it did. (beaming)

And finally — anyone want a giggle? Go check out the mischief that Poppy is up to. Apparently the Princesses are in revolt. Feel free to join in throwing me under the bus (or under the moat, as the case may be). (And yes, I was consulted beforehand and heartily gave my approval.)

Another weekend upon us… off to John’s later, and then will be celebrating a spanking good President’s Day on Monday. Happy, happy me. 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Off-Topic Rant: The Gym Edition

Oh, come on — you didn’t think this hearts and flowers business was going to last forever, did you? 🙂  Besides, I haven’t done one of these for a long time.

It’s no secret that, while I adore certain individuals, people en masse generally get on my nerves. I really do need to discover Erica Island one of these days. But until then, I will continue to have my space invaded by people who annoy me. And what better place to find an eclectic collection of bothersome folks than at one’s gym?

I may be a novelty, but I don’t go to the gym to socialize and hang out. I want to get in, do my thing and go home. But even though I may seem to be in my own little world, plugged into my iPod, I am always aware and observing. And several obnoxious types cross my path on any given day. Here are just a few.

The Multitaskers (AKA “I’m too damned important to unplug for an hour”)

You know the type. They have their cell phone with them all through their workouts. They’re yammering away while on the treadmill. They sit and text while on a piece of equipment you’re waiting to use. They’re shouting in the locker room. I’ve got news for you guys: You are not the @#$%ing President of the United States. You’re not so indispensable that you can’t shut off your damn phone for an hour or so.

The Sweathogs

Self-explanatory. They can’t be bothered to bring a towel, and they are oblivious to the paper towel dispensers throughout the gym. Folks, I commend you for working hard, truly I do. But that doesn’t mean I want to use equipment that’s glistening with your drippings.

The Muscleheads

Ah yes — how can we miss these guys? The big macho bruisers with biceps the size of Volkswagen Beetles, spewing testosterone all over everything within ten feet of them. If you want to use a particular piece of equipment and they’re on it, you might as well forget about it and move on to something else — they’re probably only up to the 15th of their 50 sets.

Muscleheads often fall into one or both of the following subgroups:

1. The Weight Slammers. You know, the men who feel the need to SLAM the weights or the machines with a loud CRASH when they’re done. If they’re on the second floor, the ceiling of the story below them cracks. And they often do their thing directly below the posted sign that reads: “Please do not drop the weights.”

2. The Screamers/Grunters/Groaners. No doubt you’ve heard them. “Hear me roar — I am strong and I am EXERTING MYSELF!!” Some of them sound like they’re being tortured; others sound like they’re having an orgasm. And yet others sound like they need more fiber in their diet. Oh, shut the hell up. You’re lifting a weight, not giving birth.

The Bored Housewives

These tend to be a morning/early afternoon feature. They come to the gym, ostensibly to work out, but end up standing around in clusters, exercising nothing but their jaws. Loudly. And they often block things you want to use, so you have to interrupt their yammering to get past them and suffer their glares of indignation.

Oh, pardon me, ladies. If I bring you some coffee and pastries, will you move your yappy asses somewhere else so I can get to the leg press?

What brought on this rant, you might ask. My last gym visit, that’s what.

I chose my elliptical trainer carefully, avoiding the cell-phone users. One-third of the way into my workout, a woman I recognized as The Hip-Hop Queen took the elliptical next to mine. Oh, crap.

She is a big woman, loaded down with stuff (her water bottle, cell phone, iPod, book). Her warmup is fine, non-obtrusive. But once she’s into it, she really gets into it. She starts doing a whole routine on the elliptical, complete with head rolls and snaky arms wildly waving about. She sings. She snaps her fingers and claps her hands.

It is @#$%ing obnoxious.

I turn my head to the side so all her gesticulating doesn’t enter my peripheral vision, and I’m OK for a little while. But then the loud fingersnapping and popping starts up, and I think I must go mad.

It’s just a few minutes out of your life, Erica. Ignore it. Focus on what you’re doing.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Live and let live, Erica. She’s not bothering you.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Oh yes, she damn well is. No! Stoppit. Tune her out. Think about nice things. Think positive, benevolent thoughts…

Snap. Snap. Snap.

OK, if she snaps those fingers one more time, I’m going to break them.

Clap. Clap.

Ugh. Go back to the snapping.

Are people really that oblivious? Do they not realize that others can actually hear and see them? I mean, I like my music too. But I enjoy it silently. The most I’ll do when I’m really into a song is mouth along to the words. I do not sing. Why? Because I’m fully aware that, while I’m hearing thumping drums, wailing guitars and harmonizing voices, others around me will only hear my disembodied and off-key singing, and I wouldn’t be that inconsiderate.

It’s no wonder why, on certain gym days when I’m simply not in the mood for any of this, I haul the free weights out of my closet and work out in my living room. Thank goodness for the anti-socialite’s options.

Rant over. I feel much better . Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get ready… to go to the gym. 🙂

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