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 “April, 2011”

Some random thoughts on a Friday

Some may want to spank me for this, but I could not @#$%ing care less about the Royal Wedding. What a lot of pomp and circumstance. And when I think of what all that money could do for people in Japan… meh. Shut up, Erica.

I saw about five minutes of the pre-wedding footage late last night. What the hell was that thing perched upon Victoria Beckham’s forehead? Apparently it needs mowing; it seems to have sprouted weeds.

I’ve been asked if I’d like to provide a banner for my blog. How does one create a blog banner? I haven’t the faintest idea.

Born of our scene yesterday, The Villain had an idea for my upcoming shoot with Spanking Court. He shared it with me and with Cali, and we both want to go for it. Therefore, my appearance is going in a completely different direction. More to come on that. It’s going to be real and intense.

I think I need to keep my visits to FetLife to a minimum for the next three days. Too much party stuff.

Where is Chross’s Spanking of the Week list? Not that I expect to be on it, since I was such a Debbie Downer this week, but I’m still curious. It’s always a great read.

I can’t wait to see John tonight. I can’t wait to see New Guy on Monday. I am so craving my special people.

Michael Scott’s farewell on The Office last night was rather sweet.

Despite the moodiness, I made it to all my workouts this week. Hated every damn minute of them, but felt so much better afterward.

My proofreader started my book and sent me some early feedback yesterday. My confidence in this project soared after reading his comments.

In a few hours, I’m having my second photo shoot. It will be completely different from the one last week, as it’s in my place, I have no backdrop, the lighting will be natural, etc. I’m going to wear black panties this time, rather than flowered, so it won’t look so busy. And I could not find a perfect peach rose today (the peach roses at the florist looked rather anemic), so I went with a cream-colored one with peachy-pink edges. One needs to be flexible, after all.

Considering what a loner and curmudgeon I am, I really do have some amazing and wonderful people in my life. And more seem to be coming into it all the time.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Mmmmmmmmmpppphhhhh…

Sorry. I am not capable of articulating any better at the moment.

Boardwalk what? 🙂

The Villain was due to arrive at 11:00 a.m. This morning, I checked email and saw I had a message from him on FetLife. Oh, crap, I thought. He has to cancel. But no… he just said he was running late, but he would try to get here by 11:30. Whew.

Since I am compulsively punctual, I was ready anyway. Good thing, too, because he showed up at 11:05.

He’d been reading my blog and knew my state of mind. He asked me how I was feeling. I answered honestly, saying I felt fine. I was in the moment, and the moment was what I wanted. He noticed my trembling, my tension. Observant.

The spanking was a blur of sensation. It wasn’t especially hard, except for some flurries thrown in. But it was thorough, and he kept me guessing. I did not know what he would do next. My legs jerked involuntarily and I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to not think, just feel. He’d brought a small leather slapper and alternated that with his hand.

He brought up the party, commenting how people were on their way to Atlantic City now. I sighed and whined, “Yeah, yeah… everyone is in Atlantic City.” To which he leaned down and whispered, “I’m not.”

That shut me up. Temporarily.

We talked, on and off, during the scene. He used his voice as a tool, drawing things out, making me wait for the next sentence. He had an answer at the ready, no matter what I threw at him. “So tell me,” I said at one point, thinking I was challenging him. “How does it feel to have so much power? How does it feel, knowing that people just have to look at your pictures and think ‘I want that’?”

I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel the smile. “You tell me,” he replied. I didn’t see that coming. Nice answer.

Of course, there had to be some sass… I am Miss 7-11 Mouth, after all (open 24 hours). “Just think,” he teased, “you could be sitting on a plane going to New Jersey right now, and instead, you’re getting a spanking. Would you rather be on a plane to New Jersey?” “No, I wouldn’t, and shut up,” I snapped. I heard him laugh… oh, gawd. I really need to say these things in my thinking voice, not my speaking voice.

About an hour into it, he commented that I’d stopped shaking, that I seemed to be in a more relaxed place. “Good,” I murmured. “Does that mean the warmup is over?”

Oh yeah. The warmup was over.

The last half-hour was silent, save for my moans into the bedspread and the cracking of hand and implement upon flesh. I was out of my head at last.

And then he had to go. I tried to get up and my legs didn’t want to hold me; the bones and muscles had dissolved into butter. I had to remove my shoes, because I feared I’d fall on my face.

He asked me if I take naps; I said yes. “This might be a good time to take one,” he suggested.

Perhaps. But there was another matter that needed urgent attention, first. (blushing)

Bizarre things, emotions. I’ve been so tightly wound all week. As I released, I laughed and hollered and then, quite unexpectedly, I started bawling. The good kind, though. I felt the tension shoot from me, riding the waves of pleasure. Crazy. How does one laugh and cry at the same time? The juxtaposition of pain and joy never ceases to amaze me.

I will see him again a week from Saturday, when I shoot for Spanking Court. I still don’t know what my crime is. It seems that Cali has something diabolical up her sleeve and won’t tell me until it’s all in place. I have no clue what it is, but I know that The Villain will be the disciplinarian.

He said it won’t matter what the crime is or what the court says. Because once he has me strapped to that bench, it’s between him and me. And he is keeping a scorecard on me, all the way until next Saturday. He would not tell me what’s on it.

(gulp)

Villain — your lovely Dana referred to you as a “boy scout” in her recent comment here. I think you just earned another merit badge, darlin’.

Oh… and if you’re not sick to death of me yet, Todd and Suzy of American Spanking Society have posted an interview with yours truly. It was a lot of fun to fill out my answers to their questions, as many of them were quite original and individually tailored to me. Thanks for asking me, guys!

All right. I think I’m ready for that nap now…

Getting better

This Beatles song perfectly demonstrates for me what was so freaking brilliant about the partnership of Lennon and McCartney: they balanced each other. There’s Paul, all cheery and upbeat with his “I’ve got to admit it’s getting better, just a little better, all the time,” and then John the grumpy realist chimes in with “It can’t get no worse!” Love it.

Thanks to everyone who was concerned about my funk. It happens. My brain wiring is screwy and sometimes the serotonin and all that other gobbledygook goes awry. Sometimes, something in particular will set it off, other times not. But it passes. One morning, I’ll wake up and no longer feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.

Today, I feel tired, but I’m not bursting into tears every time I read a post or comment about the party this weekend. This is a very good sign. The negative nattering in my head has ceased, and good riddance.

Anyway… yesterday, I threw myself headlong into CreateSpace, which is the Amazon platform for self-publishing. I still haven’t decided on cover art — I’m not completely convinced that I have THE book cover from last week’s shoot and I have another shoot scheduled for Friday — but I figured I could start the formatting process.

Fortunately, I enjoy these computer challenges, figuring them out. Because things are always more complicated than you think they will be. For example, CS indicated that once I chose my book size, all I had to do for formatting the interior was to paste my document into one of their handy-dandy templates, and poof! Done! Right. I downloaded their 6 x 9 formatting template, and then copied and pasted my book file into it. What a mess. The fonts got all screwed up, and there was a horizontal line running across the bottom of each page that I could not figure out how to remove.

So I scrapped the template and searched the site for reminders on how to format in Word. Ah yes — File + Page Setup + margins. Then change the type from flush left to justified (squared off on the left and right), add in hyphenation so I don’t have those ugly gappy lines, then read through the entire document to make sure I didn’t have any hyphenated widows (when a paragraph ends with just a piece of a word. I hate that.). I ended up with 301 pages; that’s a fairly reasonable amount, no? For several minutes, I was freaked out because the document was over 600 pages! Then I realized that instead of a .5″ margin at the bottom, I had a 5″ margin. Oops.

Next, I looked up the various free online programs that will convert a Word doc into a PDF. The first one I tried didn’t work. But the second one was a complete success. So now I know how to do the conversion when the file is finalized. Like I said, I love it when I figure these details out.

In the midst of this experimenting, I got an email out of the blue from someone I don’t know; one of my readers, offering to proofread my book for me. He wishes to remain anonymous, but we exchanged several messages and I liked him immediately; plus, I could see that he was quite the excellent writer himself. I asked him why he would offer to do this for a perfect stranger, and he replied that he felt like I was already providing him a free service with the entertainment from my blog, and he wanted to return the favor. Besides, he was curious. 🙂

So now, I have a proofreader, my second pair of eyes. I have read this damn thing over and over and OVER and yet I know there are things I’ve missed. So thank you, kind anonymous person. I appreciate this greatly.

It’s Wednesday and my favorite TV shows are on tonight.

Oh… and did I mention that The Villain is coming over tomorrow? He is.

Stay tuned…

Blech and blue

Enough of this. Enough, enough, enough. Blahs, begone, I will have no more of thee.

Yeah, right. Like they listen.

Not the best of weekends. Poor John was stressed out over work issues, and he was so thrown off his game that he lost his keys. He has spares, so it could have been worse, but John, like me, needs control and order in his life and when he loses things, it makes him feel out of control and very upset. I get this, so I did my best to soothe him. At least we didn’t get in a fight, but he was tense and snappish.

I swore I wasn’t going to do this. I swore up and down and sideways… looks like I’m a liar. But I can’t help it. Every time I log on, there it is. Every time I go to FetLife, it’s all over the feed, all over the forums. Every time I look at the blog roll, someone is blogging about it. The Boardwalk Badness Weekend party in Atlantic City next weekend. The Party of the Year. The one with people coming from the UK, Ireland and all over this country. The one nearly all my friends are attending.

I WANNA BE THERE SO BADLY, I COULD FUCKING CROAK!!!!

There, I said it.

I know what some of you are thinking. “Well, you could have gone too, why didn’t you?” (And others, no doubt, are thinking, “Oh, STFU already,” but sorry, I’m on a roll now.) Sure, I could have gone, for a lot of money. Which I don’t have. Granted, John has it. However, he already pays for one big party weekend per year, and I can’t bring myself to ask him for another, considering that these spanking parties are my thing and not really his. Last year, we did go to FMS as well as SL, so this year didn’t feel like the right time to ask him for two parties again.

Why do I want to go so badly? I’m not lacking for spankings these days — I have quantity AND quality with New Guy and I couldn’t be happier in that area. But I miss parties. I miss the crowds, the excitement. I want to see the friends I never get to see, laugh and hug and brat and have a nonstop whirlwind of socializing. I want to be “a part of.” Reading all the pre-party buzz (then the party buzz and the post-party buzz) kicks in those old dusty tapes, that horrible old feeling of being on the outside with my nose pressed against the glass, looking at the fun going on inside. Stupid, I know. Childish.

People have been writing to me, asking if I’m going. At least I know I’ll be missed by some, and that’s nice. But oh damn, I feel like I’m missing so much. Don’t worry… there won’t be a repeat performance of this when the FMS and Texas All-State parties roll around. I don’t feel the same way about them… BBW seems like the place to be. On Thursday, 175 people are arriving, and the damn thing doesn’t even officially start until Friday, so I can only imagine what the final count will be.

Focus on something else, Erica. Unfortunately, my book is at a standstill, because I still don’t have a cover photo. I’m not completely thrilled with the shots I got last week, and I’m meeting with another photographer. But that won’t be until this Friday. And I’ve been feeling weird about the book itself, wondering just what I’ve gotten myself into. Who wants to read about my life, anyway? Aagggh! I can’t take that seriously… it’s just nerves. And a lot of dredged-up memories. This weekend, I found myself relating an old memory to John, one from when I was about nine years old, and then there I was, tearing up at the dinner table. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked him. “You’ve got a lot of old stuff coming up,” he said. I guess I do.

I do have a couple of fun things to look forward to, but in this whacko mood I’m in, I’m afraid to talk about them. I feel like if I want them too much, they’ll be taken away.

I need to get to the gym; perhaps that will help. And in the meantime, looks like it’s time to up the meds:

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 4/22

Happy Good Friday. Happy Chross Day (thank you again, Chross). Happy Earth Day. OK, I think that covers everything.

This CHoS is short, but I thought posting something humorous might help counteract this blue mood I’m in.

I changed the name on this one, because it works better if I leave a name in place. Granted, this one isn’t really rude, but as you’ll see, it’s a bit strange:

My name is Joe and I am 25 years old! I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do some online sessions! I think you are really quite cute and would love to punish you! Maybe we could work it out to do a real sessions!
Thanks for the time, Joe!

Someone needs to disable this guy’s exclamation point key. Can you imagine doing an online session with him? “Bad girl! Hold still! Smack! Smack! You need to be punished! I’m going to punish you! I’m taking you over my knee right now! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But here’s the gem of the week:

I AM PERFECT FOR YOU LOVER! SERIOUSLY I HAVE AN INSATIABLE ASS FETISH THAT WOULD AMAZE YOU AND I AM ALWAYS IN NEED OF A NEW BOTTOM.WHENEVER-WHEREVER I AM ADDICTED TO LICKING,SUCKING,AND FUCKING A NICE ASS LIKE YOURS.PLEASE MESSAGE ME ASAP SINCE WE LIVE SO CLOSE.I PROMISE YOU’LL BE PLEASED.


OK, first — STOP YELLING. Second, not in a million years would I be your lover. Third, you mention every possible thing that can be done to an ass… except the one thing I want, which is spanking. Oh, wait. There is one more thing that can be done to an ass — kicking it out the cyber door.

I wonder if people with insatiable ass fetishes become proctologists?

And finally — I’ve mentioned that on occasion, I find something so completely off the wall in my keyword search section, it cries out to be posted:

easter seals ucp yanceyville nc


Sure, that makes sense. Naturally, a search for Easter Seals in North Carolina would lead to a Jewish spanko in California. (insert shrugging with perplexed face emoticon here)

To everyone who celebrates Easter, have a good one. And even if you don’t, eat some chocolate anyway. Have a great weekend, y’all.

Some days, I feel really great

This, however, is not one of them.

I took down the cover photo blog; it was a mistake to put it up. I got over-eager and posted pictures that were of poor quality and that was pointless. As things stand now, I have nearly 200 photos, some of them quite good and a lot of them not so hot, and I need to look through them very carefully. I had my mind fixated on a horizontal shot, but Zelle made the excellent point that a horizontal shot on a vertical cover often leaves too much empty space and isn’t as eye-catching. So I need to rethink that as well. Things are always more complicated than they seem. Or maybe I just make them that way.

I’m feeling tired and blech and hypersensitive today and I don’t know why. Well, I sorta do, but I don’t feel like being a Wendy Whiner, so I’m going to keep it to myself and deal with it. This too shall pass.

Think of pleasant things. It’s my favorite kind of day outside — cloudy. I have a nice new haircut. I get to see my sweetheart tomorrow.

So there’s this woman throwing herself all over New Guy on FetLife, benevolently offering to make room on her busy schedule and reward him by freeing up her Monday nights for him. Monday nights? The nerve! Is it a bad thing that I feel like pulling her hair? 🙂 Chalk it up to my rotten mood. Tomorrow, I’ll find it quite amusing.

I usually go to the gym on Thursdays and take a class, but I think, with this everyone-is-in-my-&#$%ing-way mood I’m in, I should stay home and exercise here instead.

Anyone know where I could get a shirt with this on it?

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