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”

Oh my… you SHOULDN’T have…

Being that today was Valentine’s Day and I was getting my Valentine spanking, I dressed up for New Guy, with stockings and red garter belt, and another red dress (I have three of them. Just like LBDs, you can’t have too many LRDs, either.) He showed up on at my door, all smiles, bearing a sweet bouquet of white daisies and red carnations.

And a heart-shaped paddle. A wooden heart-shaped paddle. Which he made himself, just for me.

Talk about confusing. On the one hand, I was quite tickled and touched at his efforts on my behalf. But on the other hand, the phrase, “Oh my, you shouldn’t have” was quite apropos!

Guaranteed not to break, he crowed. Oh, joy. Wouldn’t want that little @#$%er breaking, would we?

So here’s the “before” picture, happy me with my flowers and my, er, special gift:

He was hoping he could get a perfect red heart on one of my butt cheeks. But alas, the paddle was too large (or my butt is too small) to get that imprint. He tried his best, though. Oh, did he try. But he settled for overall RED. Big of him. 🙂

He used his other old faithful paddle too, and two straps. I was in feisty mode tonight and I couldn’t seem to stop giggling or being snide. When he referred to himself as an evil genius, I said he was half-right.


When he stopped, I tried to catch my breath, and he knelt down and smiled into my face. Or was it a smirk? I couldn’t tell. I glared back at him, then, very quietly and deliberately, said, “You bastard.”

That was good for another round, until I said I was sorry. Then he piled all four implements onto the coffee table, saying he’d leave them within reach in case I needed a refresher later.

After we relaxed and chatted for a while, he left to use the restroom. I immediately whisked the implements off the table and shoved them under the couch.

Hey, I thought it was funny. But my glee was short-lived, as he put me back over the ottoman and fished another weapon of a#$ destruction out of his bag. “Where are they?” he asked.

“They got bored and left!” I hollered.

“You better get ’em back, then,” he said, and laid into me with whatever the hell that thing was, until I gave up and crawled over to the couch, retrieving the four hidden toys.

I got ten hard ones with all four, rapidly, no break in between each one. Holy moly.

“You going to hide my implements ever again?” “NO!” “I guess that wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

Guess not.

OK, so I sorta kinda maybe asked for that. But really. Tops can be so damned mean, giving us consequences for our actions. Humpph.

I did get some sweet aftercare with lotion and snuggles, though.

And remember the “before” picture? Usually when you see a “before” picture, you know an “after” picture is coming, right?

Here ya go.

Did I have a happy Valentine’s Day? You be the judge. 🙂

Valentine weekend

It’s Sunday night and I am back home. Hard for me to believe that it isn’t Valentine’s Day proper yet, as we’ve been celebrating it all weekend and my heart is already full to bursting. 🙂

I went to John’s Friday night, bearing Valentine treats. There were the homemade brownies (and balloon!):

The card with just the right words:

And of course, these:

He presented me with a one-pound satin-heart box of See’s chocolate, which is my favorite chocolate on the planet. We happily tore into it later that evening. I still remember all too well the many weeks where I could barely get John to eat a few spoonfuls of soup, so it gave me joy to see him scarfing brownies and chocolate.

Saturday we took his mother to lunch; I was comfortably dressed down in black jeans and a plaid shirt, but underneath I had on my sexy kiss-print panties and a bright red bra. Once we got the filial duties out of the way, the rest of the afternoon and evening was ours. Driving back to John’s place, on the winding canyon road, we saw two deer grazing off to the side. There was no one behind us, so we stopped right in the middle of the road and watched them. They didn’t get spooked, just looked back at us with those huge eyes. Wish I’d had my camera then! John said he arranged for them to be there, as part of Valentine weekend (sure, honey). And that it was damn hard to get deer to cooperate, because, well, they’re deer.

Of course, later, we got pictures. Me, being Ms. Cheesecake:

Then after dressing for dinner, I was sitting on the bed buckling my shoe, and John said, “Don’t move!” (He did, however, adjust my skirt, lifting it up higher on my leg… humph!) 🙂

He looked quite spiffy himself:

We went to one of our favorite restaurants, a place called the California Canteen. Wonderful food, lovely atmosphere (not too loud!) and great service. Our table was directly beneath this sign:

We were seated at a rounded corner booth, so we could sit together. After we ordered, John told me to close my eyes. ??? Roses, chocolates and this beautiful dinner… there was more?

I love watches. I know that people don’t wear them much anymore, now that they have the ubiquitous cell phone with the time handy, but I love to wear them. John got me into vintage collectible watches a few years ago; he’s given me several different ones since then. Each one has been unique and goes with different colors/styles. Sure enough, when I opened my eyes, there was a jewelry box in front of me.

The accompanying card read: “You are the best and the most beautiful; you deserve the same.”

When I was young, I dreamed of nights like this. I thought they existed only in commercials and fantasy stories. Or perhaps for other people, but never for me.

Damn, but I love this man.

(many thanks to Zelle for “doctoring” this pic for me a bit. John had an obtrusively glaring light over his head.)

After dinner, we went to another favorite place, the Aroma Café, and shared a ginormous piece of German chocolate cake. Stuffed and happy, we headed home. No… no Valentine spanking. His energy level is still low. BUT… he’s finally starting to exercise again, which he hasn’t felt like doing in months. The itch is still with him sometimes, but it’s slowly fading away and he’s sleeping better. As for future heart surgery… not going to think about that now. I’m staying in the moment.

And tomorrow, on actual Valentine’s Day, I get to have a Valentine-red bottom from New Guy. Am I spoiled all to hell, or what?

Thanks for bearing with my mush, folks. I promise my bitchy, cynical self will return. For now… she’s quite overwhelmed.

Hope everyone has a beautiful Valentine’s Day. 🙂

Happy Friday blathering

It’s Friday of what John has been calling “Valentine Week.” I know, I know, we’re nauseating. But please bear with me. This is the one time a year where I throw my customary cynicism out the window and indulge in sheer romantic mush. Yeah, yeah… it’s a date on the calendar, we should be like this all year round and not just one day, it’s too commercial, blah blah freaking blah. I don’t care. No one’s gonna rain on my little giddy parade. 🙂

And of course, what’s my favorite thing these days about Fridays? Getting Chrossed! My incredible scene with New Guy this week landed me not only on the Chross list, but on PaddleMePink’s and Kaelah’s blogs as well. Thank you, one and all. When I write about a wonderful experience, I get to relive it… and then when others enjoy, comment on and cite it, I relive it yet again. Such a lovely cycle.

While perusing Chross’s choices this week, I ran across something that made me cheer. (Yes, I do get excited over the damndest things.)

You guys have listened to me babble on and on for years about my favorite mainstream spanking scene, the Robert Horton/Susan Oliver spanking in the Wagon Train episode, “The Maggie Hamilton Story.” I first saw it on my Cinema Swats VHS tape and I dissolved into a puddle of girl goo, as Danny used to say.

However, much to my frustration, the scene was nowhere to be found in its entirety online. There was a clip of it, but it was severely truncated. Instead of showing the delicious buildup to their confrontation, it started right in the middle of it. And then it cut out abruptly after the spanking, without showing the sweet moments afterward. I could describe the full scene until I was blue in the face, but nothing was like seeing it.

So I was delighted to see that Le Monde De La Fessee found that full clip and has posted it! The blog is in French, but don’t pay any mind to that, just look at the pictures and then the video. Susan Oliver is the perfect impossible brat (“If I kill you, it will be your fault!”). And ladies, if you have never seen this clip in its entirety, go, go watch. I guarantee you that the last few seconds alone will make you melt. And while you may never have heard of Robert Horton prior to this, you will have a crush on him forevermore. (“You’re going to grow up. All the way. Right now.”) Swooooooooooooooooooooooon… McLintock and his stooooopid coal shovel — Meh! Flint McCullough (Horton’s character) is my epitome of a spanking man. 😀

Anyway (fanning myself), on to the weekend. I’ve already received my Valentine’s Day roses… last Tuesday. John likes to send them early, mixing it up, so I’ll be surprised. Not red, but peach. And not a dozen, but fifteen. I’m not sure why he chose that number, but this is our 15th Valentine’s Day together, so that could be it. It would be very much like him to remember a detail like that.

I have a large Tupperware filled with brownies from scratch, a heart-shaped balloon and a nice card (not too flowery/mushy, just right). And I will bring something pretty to wear tomorrow night when he takes me to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, including some new panties. 😉

Have a great weekend, y’all.

My heartthrob is… How old???

OK, anyone who’s known me for five minutes knows that my (almost) lifelong actor crush is on David Selby, who played the roguish Quentin Collins on Dark Shadows. I was 12 years old when I first laid eyes on him, and his handsome, 6′ 4″ presence rocked my pre-adolescent little world.

His birthday was this past weekend. He turned 70.


No way. It can’t be. He is not 70.

Ah, but he is. (sigh)

But in my mind, in my stacks of Dark Shadows DVDs, he will always look like this:

Oh, the fantasy mileage I’ve gotten from David Selby and his alter ego. I even wrote a spanking story about traveling back in time and finding myself face to face with his character in Collinwood, 1897. But wait, there’s more! My good buddy Dave Wolfe immortalized us both, a couple of years ago:

Wolfie is so freaking talented, isn’t he? Swisssshhhhh! Heehee…

Yet another friend paired us again, by taking a cartoon from the amazing Endart and Photoshopping “Quentin’s” and my face into it:

I know, I know… does it get any sillier? I’m way too damn old for crushes. But I’ve had so much fun with this one, it’s hard to let it go.

So happy belated birthday, David… I still love ya! 🙂

The Stranger

When my doorbell rang at 6:30, I opened it eagerly, expecting to see New Guy standing there smiling back, ready to give me a warm hug after three weeks of not seeing each other.

But the man at my door didn’t smile, only stepped in silently, Feeling a bit thrown, I started to wrap my arms around his neck, and he shrugged them off. Then I felt his fist tightening in my hair.

He spun me around, pushing me toward my bedroom. I nearly stumbled on my high heels. Wordlessly, he threw me onto my bed, then flipped me over, pinning both arms behind my back. He rummaged in his bag and next thing I knew, he was tying my hands together. Once that was done, he leaned down and spoke. “Did you really think you could write something like that in your blog and no one would get ideas?”

“Ah… um… I….” I stuttered, and he yanked my hair. “Did you?”

“No…” I murmured. I thought perhaps I could reason with him. “I couldn’t help it,” I cried. “Those pictures… I don’t know, they just did something to me.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “now I’M going to do something to you.” My legs were bent, my feet tightly curled up under my bottom; he pulled my legs straight, and unceremoniously yanked my leggings and panties down my thighs and off. Then he tied my ankles together.

“Now,” he growled, “you are going to get exactly what you deserve.”

The spanking was hard and fast and ferocious — no warmup here. I squirmed around, but I could barely move, and the ropes bit into my wrists if I pulled too hard.

“Are you scared?”


“You should be. Maybe you’ll be more careful about what you put on your blog, won’t you? Be careful what you wish for.” Then he jerked the rope off my wrists. But before I could sigh in relief, he pulled my hands forward, wrapped the rope securely around my wrists once again and tied the ends to the bedframe just above the caster. He then did the same thing with my ankles, tying them down at the other end.

And then the implements came out of the bag. He brushed them against me, teasing me, tormenting me. I was on sensory overload… yes, it was scary. It was also wildly, almost unbearably arousing.

“Please,” I whimpered, “please…”

“Please what?” he asked. When I didn’t answer, he snapped the strap down hard once, twice, three times quickly. “Please what? he repeated.

“Please…. don’t hurt me,” I whispered. My usual bravado and brattiness had completely disappeared. He was someone I didn’t know, and yet I did. And I was someone I didn’t know, as well.

He leaned down to me once again, his mouth to my ear. “But I want to hurt you,” he hissed. I moaned and steeled myself.

Strap, belt, paddle, another strap… it went on and on. He said little, and I buried my face in the comforter, trying to stifle my yelps. I started crying early on, not necessarily from the pain, but from the surges of emotion. But I couldn’t wipe my nose or push my hair out of my face. I was helpless, at his mercy.

After a while, he paused and spoke again. “I like hurting you,” he drawled, his voice silky. “And you like it too. Don’t you!”

God help me, I did. I loved it. I nodded vigorously, even as I cried. And then he finished me off with ten rapid, heavy paddle strokes. I had to count them.

It was over. He untied me, then sat on the bed next to me, gathering me close. Suddenly, he was New Guy again… sweet, gentle and soothing. He smiled into my face, the menacing look gone. I wept and trembled and clung to him. And through it all, I kept mumbling, “Oh God. Oh my God. Wow… Wow… That was… oh my god, that was sooooo @#$%ing hot…” He laughed. Said he was glad I’d liked it, because he sure did too.

I have been tied up before. But I’d never experienced it like this, as part of a roleplay scene, sprung on me so unexpectedly. It was different. It was rougher than I usually play. But I could do it with him. I could go there. I trusted him. I knew I was safe, so I could fully immerse myself in the fantasy.

And don’t anyone worry about me. Don’t anyone think any of this was too harsh, because I wanted it. Does this look like an abused woman to you?

Didn’t think so. 🙂  I even recovered enough to sass him. Paid for it, of course.

Thank you, my friend, my evil stranger.

On my mind…

… right this moment? It’s 10:35 A.M. I want it to be tonight. NOW.

I want to bypass the stupid workout and the boring folding of laundry and the paying of bills and the checking of work ads and all the other mundane nonsense that will pass the hours of this day, and go directly to the good stuff.

I am not a responsible adult. I am a greedy, wanton, spoiled adult child, wanting her treat.

But no matter how much I kick and fuss, the clock stubbornly ticks the minutes away one at a time, instead of leaping forward in large chunks of hours that bring me to this evening.


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