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 “August, 2011”

On balance, I’ve had better weeks

It got off to a great start, with Monday night’s festivities. And it was nice to get an early Chrossing on Tuesday. Kinda went downhill from there, however.

Ready for the latest snag in the book saga? Nothing tragic in the overall scheme of things, just more frustration. When we last left off, I’d received my proof copy and the cover looked 100% perfect. The interior copy had a few minor tweaks, so I made those, resubmitted the file and they approved it last week. I could have made the book available to buy then.

Buuuuuuuut… I didn’t want to, just yet. Instead, I ordered five copies for giveaways. Figured once I got those and was reassured at how perfect they were, I could make the announcement.

The package arrived yesterday afternoon. I eagerly tore into it, plucked one of the books out, then another… and my heart sank.

In this printing, they’d shifted the entire cover image down about 1/4 inch. Not that big a deal, right? But it was. It ruined the cover.

On the back, the end of the copy was now just hovering over the bottom edge, plus the portion of the copy that wrapped around the ISBN box was practically sitting on top of the box. And on the front, at the bottom where my hand rests, two of my fingertips were chopped off. Unacceptable.

I didn’t get upset or angry. I just sighed in resignation. Sure. Of course. Murphy (and his law) is alive and well.

So back on the phone I went to CreateSpace support, explaining what had happened. They are sending me a prepaid mailer so I can mail back the proof copy plus one of the new copies. Then they can compare the two and see what happened. (sigh) More delay, folks.

Hey, since I’m experiencing all this aggravation at the outset, does that mean that once this damn thing finally goes on sale, all will go swimmingly and it will sell a million copies? Well, one can dream.

In other news… had a dental checkup this week. The good news: my teeth are in great shape. The bad news: my gums are a mess; portions of them, anyway. Had a lot of bleeding during the cleaning. Also, for most of my adult life, I’ve had recession on my lower front teeth, and they’ve been monitoring it. Apparently, it has progressed to the point where they’re concerned about it and they want me to have oral surgery.

It’s called a gingival graft. Briefly, they cut a piece of gum from the inside of your cheek or the roof of your mouth and graft it on the receding area. Lovely. Not cheap, either.

I scheduled it for mid-October. I’m going to need some healing time and I don’t know of anything happening around that date. I didn’t want to do it next month, because I don’t care to wreck my birthday. It’s waited this long; it can wait a little longer.

Oh, and my mother is in the hospital, yet again. Renal problems this time. I spoke with my stepfather last night; he told me she has been unresponsive for the past two or three weeks. Just kind of stares at him. Her head lolls forward, as if her neck can’t bear the weight of it.

Why do people have to go on like this? It’s such a travesty. My stepdad said he feels so guilty about giving DNR instructions; says he’s “signing her death sentence.” I told him no, you are not. Her body and her brain gave her a death sentence years ago.


Sorry, kids. Don’t mean to be a downer. I’m actually feeling quite calm, kind of rolling with things. And I do have some fun things to look forward to, for balance. Must have balance.

Hey, the Dow is back up again today. What a roller coaster ride that’s been, huh? Kinda like life.


Mini-rant: The naughty chair???

New Guy is a man of many talents, besides the obvious ones he showcases every Monday evening. You already saw the heart paddle he made for me. He also made this spanking bench for a friend who owns a dungeon:

Nice craftsmanship, right? However, he made another piece of furniture for her, and I don’t think it’s nice at all.

He calls it the “naughty chair.”

Yes, those are raised circular ridges. Yes, you sit on them, bare-bottomed, after your spanking. Are you kidding me??

I will say it’s a beautiful piece of work. But there is no way I’d ever sit on that thing. Clothed, bare, spanked, unspanked… forget about it.

“But it leaves such a pretty bulls-eye pattern on your bottom,” he teased. “I could use it for target practice!”

Your aim is just fine, pal. I don’t need a freaking bulls-eye on my a#$.

Bottoms, would you sit on this? And don’t answer “If my Top ordered me to do so, I would,” or I’ll lose my breakfast.

NG keeps telling me that he’s going to take me to his friend’s dungeon and make me sit on that chair after we scene. Right. He’ll find himself with a three-legged stool.

Guess where the missing leg will end up?  :-Þ

Thirty Seconds

That’s how much time passed tonight, between the moment New Guy walked in my door and the moment I ended up like this:

I still had my “I’m so glad to see you” face on, for God’s sake. But no time for niceties. We had lost time to make up for.

“I’m sure you haven’t behaved yourself at all the past two weeks,” he said. So? Whose fault is that? I think i may have actually said that out loud. I don’t remember. I do remember saying “Ow” a lot.

“You’re getting it hard and fast tonight,” he scolded. “and it’s just the way you need it. Isn’t it!”

“NO!” I hollered. “Oh?” he said. “Well, in that case, maybe I should just go home then, right? I mean, if you don’t need it…”

Arrgh. Of course I needed it. Damn him anyway.

He wasn’t kidding about the fast and hard. “It’s been two weeks, not two months!” I screeched. Didn’t help me.

After that, there wasn’t much talk. I didn’t really want to talk. I wanted to shut up and feel, to absorb, to take it. To arch upward for more, even as my feet kicked and scissored in protest.

He changed it up a little, bringing out his flogger. He removed my shirt and flogged my back and shoulders, moving down occasionally for extra hard whacks on the bottom and then back up again. I never knew what he was going to do. I didn’t want to know. The control was not mine.

I don’t know how long it went on. I just know it took me a very long time to come back to reality, to stop making animal noises and once again speak coherently. Reality? Reality was the stock market tanking, the riots in London, and other assorted BS, tragedy and trauma. For a while, it went away. For a while, I was in a bubble, no one else in the world but NG and me.

Welcome back, Erica…

Yup… ease back into reality. Savor the moment. Savor your Blogger-versary and Consensual Spanking Day.

He’d read my blog about changes. Didn’t say much about it, except for four words. Four words that meant the world.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I could have kissed him for that.

Friends in the London vicinity, my thoughts are with you. I remember the L.A. riots as if they were yesterday. I hope peace is restored soon.

Just one thing left to make my night complete… chocolate. 🙂 Night, y’all.

Blogger-versary #1!

One year ago today, I migrated away from the defunct MySpace, where I’d been blogging for nearly five years, and started fresh here on Blogspot/Blogger. So far, this is post #227 (damn, I’m a blabbermouth, huh?), I’ve been viewed 429,920 times and have 132 followers.

It’s been quite a blogging year! I met New Guy, who quickly became a very important part of my life. I traveled to CT and shot with Sarah and Paul. I met The Villain and Dana and all the wonderful Spanking Court folks. I shot with Northern Spanking again. I had all the ups and downs with the book. And on a personal note, John and I went through hell and back with his health.

What better to celebrate my first year with New Guy, tonight?  He will be back after missing last week and has promised me two weeks’ worth of spanking. Bring it on, sweetie. I am so ready.

May I gripe for just a moment? (Don’t answer that; it’s rhetorical. I’m going to gripe anyway.) What the hell is up with my blog stats? They’ve tanked! Is everyone on vacation, or what? What do I need to do to get you guys reading again? (I’m afraid of what the answers might be…)

Yeah, yeah, it’s summer, the kids are home, everyone’s outdoors, at the beach, blah blah blah. So what? Hello — Smart phones and laptops. You can read blogs outside! Don’t read the news and your stock reports… you’ll just get depressed. I’ll entertain you!

Enough of that. I’m off to the gym to toughen up my butt so it can win the bottom/hand war tonight. 😀

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 8/5

It’s Friday. Time to lighten up and bring back the funny. And the ridiculous.

im the one. I want u… I love 2 show my women I care with pain.. Let me show u

Your profile picture already showed me your dick. I’ve seen enough.

bare bottom ass whippings with my belt that will make u squirt your cum across the room and u wont be able to sit down for a week

The only thing that’s going to squirt across the room is my projectile vomit. Go away.

Hi…I am available for giving your bottom lots of oral attention…

Unless your tongue is shaped like a paddle, I’m not interested.

wanna spank me ? call 626 xxx-xxxx only if UR a woman or shemail

Shemail? Is that, like, email from a woman?

I deleted this, and next day, I heard from him again:

thats ok if i coud at least spank u & U me that wood be nice

I don’t care how nice your wood is. I’m not going to spank u.

I’ve heard from this guy before as well:

daddy likes what he sees. u r a butt beaiufull bottom i love u over my knee n bare r bottom n give u the spanking – croping u need need n have a taste for i am know for my o t k style call if u like to go for a trip over my knee that botton is in real need for attion i travl for work wwe com phone 859 xxx xxxx w-male 859 xxx xxxx if u r real call hope to see u soon

Let’s review. 1) You’re not my Daddy. I’m no Einstein, but there’s no way I could be the spawn of someone so stupid. 2) No, I don’t want to go for a trip over your knee. We’ve already discussed how much I hate to travel. 3) I doubt you are know [sic] for your OTK style. More likely you are know [sic] for writing like a first grader.

And finally — another oddball gem from the search phrase collection:

children be a nice naughty next moody corner time now please

I am not making this up. There’s no way I could. And can someone please explain how this string of gibberish led them to my blog?? (Yeah, yeah, I know. It was the “moody” part.)

Enough of this nonsense. Thanks to all who read my tome the other night and replied, including those who wrote to me privately. I got a message from New Guy, saying his hand is itching for me and he hopes I’m ready for a good spanking on Monday. It’s nice to know some things don’t change.

Have a beaiufull weekend, y’all.


It’s late, and I feel like talking. No one is around, so I’m just going to talk here. Y’all don’t mind, do you?

The name of this blog is Life, Love and Spanking. Much of the time, I talk about the latter of the three. Sometimes about the second. Tonight, I want to talk about life. Specifically, how I struggle with it.

Settle in, grab a beverage. This might take a while.

The old expression goes: “The only things certain in life are death and taxes.” Not so. There is one more thing, a certainty that happens all the time.

The “c” word. Change.

Some of you know this, some don’t. I hate change. A lot. I’m not just talking about the major upheaval kind; I don’t like small changes either. I don’t like the unexpected, the spontaneous, the unpredictable. It’s unsafe to me. It’s scary.

Where does this come from, people wonder? Sure, it could be due in part to a crazily inconsistent and insecure childhood, one in which I couldn’t wait until I grew up so I could control things. (ha!!) But it runs deeper than that. There’s something inborn. My mother has said (many times, many ways) how, even as a baby/toddler, I would get distressed and cry when something was moved, something as simple as a figurine from one end of the table to the other. “Put it back!” I’d sob.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter where it comes from. It is what it is. Some may say, “It’s life; life is change. Get over it.” Well, guess what. I’m going to be 54 next month. I’ve been to more therapists than I care to think about and I’ve been shrunk so many times, it’s amazing that there’s anything left of me. So “getting over it” doesn’t seem to be an option.

Fortunately, I found someone who is a lot like me, and we co-exist in our needs for routine. We’re a pair of misfits who happen to fit together. We tease each other about our various shticks and rituals. When we walk into our brunch restaurant on Sunday, our server sees us and puts in our order. She knows, because it’s the same thing every week. When we go grocery shopping, I know exactly what he’s going to buy. I know he’s going to make the bed the minute we get up. He knows I will do the crossword puzzle every Saturday and Sunday. In ink. I know he will call me each weeknight, and approximately when.

We don’t socialize very often, because we don’t reach out much. Plus, we’re not the types whom people can call/text in the afternoon and say, “Hey, what are you doing for dinner?” or “Want to join us? We’re going to a party; we can get you in.” We plan things way in advance.

Admittedly, John is better at spontaneity than I. He is better at rolling with things. Me? Like I said, the unexpected gives me hives.

Most of the time, I live my life this way and don’t think about it much. But every now and then, when I’m in a down place, it hits me just how challenging my need for things NOT to change makes life at times.

Just for a small example: Most people love to travel, love to see the world, experience other cultures. I don’t like to travel. Not because I don’t like being at these other places, but I hate the stress of getting there. Too many unknowns. Too many things that can go wrong, that I have no control over. Too many disruptions to my regular routine.

What if something happens and I miss my flight? What if my flight is cancelled? What if my flight is delayed and I miss a connector flight later? What if they lose my luggage?

Interestingly, the one thing I don’t worry about it if the plane will crash. I guess the Neurosis Fairy figured I had more than my share already.

This week, John said kiddingly, “Sweetie, the Shadow Lane party is next month. Is it just about panic time?” He can tease me about it. I know he does it with love. And he’s the one who has to deal with my pre-party craziness.

Is it about the party itself? No, not so much, although I’m always nervous before these things. So what’s the problem? We don’t have to fly. Ah, but it’s a long drive to Vegas. Several hours, a few hundred miles. Again, a lot of unpredictables.

What if we get in a car accident? What if there’s a SigAlert on the 15 and we get stuck for hours? What if the car dies? What if, what if, what if.

It’s much easier to just stay local and never go anywhere. Ironically, my stove hood and refrigerator are plastered with magnets, from all over the country, the world. Aside from a few (New York, Connecticut, Las Vegas, and a couple of other states), they’ve all been given to me by other people. I collect them, but I don’t go to the places.

I have a friend who travels a great deal for his work, all over the world. He can be going to the United Arab Emirate, China or England at any given time, often with little notice (and I have magnets from several of those places, from him). He spends (seemingly) half his life on a plane. And he loves it. He thrives on it. It’s all about adventure for him, new things, new people, new foods, new surroundings. I’d rather endure root canal without anesthetic on a daily basis.

I often joke about how I’d like to move to Seattle eventually, because I love the rain and cloudy days, and I get so very sick of California heat and crowds and high prices and so forth. Who am I kidding? I’ve lived in CA all my life. I’ve lived in the same apartment for 20 years. I freak out if my frozen yogurt store closes — like I’m really gonna uproot my whole life?? Right.

Like I said, most of the time, I don’t think about this stuff. But sometimes… sometimes, I wish I were a different sort of person. More adventurous. More curious. More willing to roll with changes, to let things flow, to be open to life rather than afraid of it. A person whose comfort zone isn’t so damn small.

John says I am adventurous in my own way — look at all I’ve done within the spanking realm. True, that. I’ve done a lot of very cool stuff in the last 15 years. But here’s the weird part; it’s ALL within the spanking realm. It’s all Erica Scott.

Last week, there was a thread on FetLife asking, “What’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever done, outside of spanking/the scene?” Hmm. Let’s see. I was a call-in on the Dr. Phil show… no, that was spanko related. I participated in a bullwhip demo with a renowned whip artist. Again, scene. I’ve written two books, written video scripts, performed in them… whoops, that’s spanking stuff again. Outside of my spanking adventures, I could not think of one single thing that was interesting, that was worth relating.

A former spanking model once said to me, “I wish I’d never heard of [her scene name].” How sad to feel that way. I love Erica Scott. She is the best of me. She is motivated by something she loves and craves to be adventurous and courageous. I guess I wish Erica [real last name] were that courageous in day-to-day life, facing the inevitable ups and downs. The changes. The losses. The stuff that is life.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but it’s a relief to get it out of my head. Maybe someone will relate to me. Thanks for reading, anyway. This is where my mind goes sometimes, late at night.

They say it’s good to be self-aware, to recognize one’s foibles and weaknesses. They say the truth will set you free. I’m still waiting for it to stop making me cry.

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