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 “January, 2012”

Well, what do you know

Tops can be fair every now and then!

When ST showed up tonight, he said, “So, I read your blog.” Uh oh. But then he continued with, “I’m not going to spank you for defending yourself, or your friends. You’re perfectly within your right to do that.”

Hot damn!

And then he added, “I’ll just have to spank you for something else, or make something up.”

So much for that brief moment of fairness. Humph.

I told him that John had groused about the efficacy of his spankings. I quote, “Tell ST that whatever he’s doing, it’s not working! He’s been there every week for well over a year and you’re as big a brat as you ever were.”

“There’s no pleasing him,” I grumbled during the warmup. “And there’s no pleasing you either!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, running his hand over my bottom, still with leggings on. “This is a very pleasing backside.”

“Thank you.”

“It will be even more pleasing after your pants come down. Yes, this pleases me very much.”

“Well, if you’re so pleased, then why the @#$% are you spanking me?”

I never know when I’m ahead.

Here’s an interesting discovery from this evening — do you know that even a leather spanking buddy, when used with a very powerful hand, can feel like a club? I had no idea. But I’d swear that thing was a meat mallet, not a strip of leather, by the time he went full force with it. I was actually grateful when he switched to canes!

Still not all that red, is it? There was a lot more ahead.

No tears tonight; I was in a better frame of mind. But I had so much pent-up tension after dealing with the various asshats, I could feel it coming off me in waves. I struggled very hard not to scream, but a couple of yelps slipped out before I finally mashed my mouth into the bedspread.

Will you look at all these freaking implements?

But at last, it was the final ten with the wooden paddle. And then I curled up into a ball on the bed, bunching up the bedspread in my fists. He went to get the lotion; it stung, but felt cool as well. After a while, he got onto the bed and spooned with me from behind. We didn’t speak for a long time.

I love aftercare. I love that connection, that time to transition back, slowly. I so adore how gentle he can be, after being so harsh.

Now, ready for something scary?

Here I am, still kind of in subspace, sprawled out on the bed among the toys. Check out my bottom. This is about 20-25 minutes after we stopped.

Looks like he hasn’t even started yet, right? WTF?

Well, I can guaran-damn-tee you that it sure feels like he started, and finished too. But of course, to look at me, no one would believe it.


I can honestly say that at the moment, I couldn’t give a rat’s aspirator about whatever nonsense is happening on FetLife. 🙂 That should last me, oh, until tomorrow.

Oh! One more thing. Spanking Court put up another promo clip of that preview, and this one is much longer than the one on SpankingTube last week. You see more of the spanking, and get to hear more of my smart-ass lines. Also, watch for the moment in court when I temporarily crack up the Disciplinarian; I say something snotty and he abruptly turns his face to the wall. 😀  Check it out here.

(Note: For whatever reason, the link above to the SC promo works in Google Chrome, but not IE. Don’t know if it works in Firefox or not, since I don’t have that browser loaded.)

Blissfully sleepy. Sweet dreams, ST.

"Oh, put a sock in it"

It’s been a strange, unsettling and combative week on FetLife. Granted, there are tons of members and a constant swirl of activity, and some things are bound to touch a nerve now and then. But this week really got under my skin. I allowed things to get to me more than they should, and I’m not thrilled with myself over it. And at the same time, I got sort of a heady thrill getting up in certain people’s faces. I don’t know what that’s about, really. I don’t like it, but sometimes, I can’t seem to help myself.

It started earlier this week, with a man who posted a piece of writing about “what to do with your sub when she gets too full of herself.” He then went on to describe in excruciating detail how you first put her in a hot bath, then tie her down naked to a bench, strap her with all your might for 15 minutes straight (not just on the bottom, but on her back and all the way down to the backs of her knees) until she’s covered with welts, then give her an enema with hot soapy water. Guaranteed to change her attitude.

I wrote that yes, people tend to have a different attitude when they’re in the hospital. Others chimed in, saying that punishment sounded excessive and irresponsible. He then wrote to me, “Erica, save the drama for your books” and went on to say that my books are lame. He also put down the others who agreed that what he’d described could seriously injure someone. Well, it turned into a free-for-all, and the moderator closed the thread. Should have ended there, but then this idiot, assuming three different sock-puppet names, went around to the profiles of everyone who challenged him, myself included, and posted insults to their pictures. One woman was fat, another one was ugly, etc. Me? He said I have yellow teeth.

I could have ignored it. But instead, I posted to all my friends that I’d discovered his sock-puppets, and I made fun of him along with several others. He started it!

Later, a particular political group posted something so offensive, a couple of my friends with opposing views joined the group to say what they thought. They were non-combative, not at all disrespectful. I did not join in — I don’t join political groups. Period. But I watched what was going on; watched as my friends were censored and banned for disagreeing. One of my friends wrote to the moderator, respectfully and politely, trying to get him to change his mind and allow a healthy debate. The moderator wrote back all sorts of rude, condescending crap, like “Give it up, boy.” Boy?? Good Christ, I thought. People like this are voting in the next election. I’m scared.

Finally, another friend posted an announcement that she would be traveling soon and she was booking spanking sessions. She posted it in a spanking group and she got permission from the moderator to do so. But then it rolled downhill into one of those “spanking models are akin to prostitutes” flame wars.

And several pages into it, one of my favorite people (not) had to chime in, as always. A bitter, unpleasant, condescending woman who manages to start or exacerbate flame wars nearly every time she posts. She’s been doing so for years, starting on the old Shadow Lane message board, and she continues to do so on FetLife. I have met her in person and I’ve gotten into it with her a few times online. She has a passive-aggressive, snarky, bitchy way of posting, with thinly veiled contempt for anyone in the pro spanking industry (she writes of “models” and their “work” using quotes). Even her punctuation is annoying. She never uses a period, a comma or a semi-colon; no, she ends every sentence (and mid-sentence) with ellipses. So her posts go on and on and on, several paragraphs, filled with “… … … … … ” And it’s never one question mark; it’s always three. (???) She has these crappy little parties in her home, and she’s always talking about MY parties, MY rules, MY way of doing things, as if hers is the benchmark to follow. (I heard from someone who went to one of her parties; she said it sucked.)

Last year, when there was a nasty thread going on about spanking models doing pay sessions at parties, she was so offensive that I blew up and told her publicly to put a sock in it, and that she didn’t need to keep going on about HER parties, because we heard her the first 100 times. Several people messaged me and thanked me.

So this time, when she started up again (ending her rambling tome with her usual “Just my two cents”), I commented how it was amazing how her two cents cost us so much of our precious time. Then I posted “… … … … … … … ad nauseam. Yawwwwwnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”

Again, people wrote to me and cheered. How sad that she’s so universally disliked. I could almost feel sorry for her, if I didn’t find her so personally objectionable.

The thing is, I’m not usually into engaging like this. Truly, I’m not. I hate fighting, and I don’t get off on being mean to people. But if certain people provoke me first, I take an almost perverse delight in poking them back. And I know I shouldn’t, but dammit, sometimes… it’s irresistible.

Maybe it’s a holdover from my childhood, when I was bullied. Perhaps it’s my righteous anger side, roaring to the forefront: “If you fuck with me, or my friends, I’m NOT gonna be quiet about it anymore!”

Or maybe it’s simply that I have very little patience and people across the board annoy me. (sigh)

Regardless, I’m sure ST will take me to task for this bitchiness tomorrow. I welcome it. But damned if I’m going to take back anything I said. :-Þ

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 1/27

Welcome to Friday. There must be something in the air this week — I have seen more asshattery on FetLife the past couple of days than I have in months. Perfect timing for one of these columns, so I can blow off some steam.

wow sexy and u have sexy feet i like to lick and kiss your feet

That’s nice. Go find someone who would enjoy that.

Are you into animalsex also ??

Does the occasional and regrettable encounter with swine count?

love how you’re bottom swells after a good spanking.

Does it? This is news to me. Perhaps I should give ST a tape measure for a before-and-after. Or maybe I’ve been eating too many peanut butter Oreos.

When you get your bare ass spank does the man stop now an then to rub an massage your bare ass to keep it from tighten up an keep it loose so you could feel every smack sure hope so.

Please tell me I just imagined this one. It’s too depressing to think people actually write this badly. Trust me, I feel every smack, tight ass or loose ass.

And now for fun with search phrases. I don’t usually get into these, as most of mine are fairly straightforward, but I’ve gotten a batch of such bizarre ones lately, I had to share.

Sarah Gregory nude

Ummm… OK. Sarah Gregory is lovely naked. But how on earth did this phrase bring anyone to my blog?

Erica Scott is ticklish

Why yes, I am. But what does that have to do with anything?

ohmyhead model mayhem

WTF?? I do have a profile on Model Mayhem, but it doesn’t give me a headache.

spanking pedicure

Again with the feet. How would one get a pedicure while being spanked? Wouldn’t the polish smear all over?

And finally, can someone please explain this one to me? I swear, I’m not making it up.

facial waitress

For one thing, the phrase itself makes no sense. And for another, in what universe does anything to do with facials or food servers connect with a spanking blog? Perhaps an inept waitress tripped and gave a customer a facial with a bowl of soup, and got spanked for it. Oh, my head, indeed.

There are times when the Internet — no, the world in general — makes no sense to me. I’m very grateful it’s Friday and I get to escape to John’s for a couple of days. His knee is better, although now the bruises have bloomed and it looks scary, he says.

Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

A Poem

(Holding a flower and doing my best Henry Gibson impression. Who’s Henry Gibson? He was on Laugh-In. What’s that? Oh, Google it, for Chrissake.)

Some say that I have bratitude,
They claim I can’t be good
But I’m not bad, I’m not, I’m not
I’m just misunderstood!

(Photoshop by — who else? — Zelle! Thank you, darlin’.) 😀

Spanking Court preview up on SpankingTube

First things first. Thank you, everyone, for the comments and the private messages yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t do my usual replying to each individual comment, but I appreciated them all very much. Time for a bit of balance now and onto something a little more fun.

There is now a 4-minute+ preview clip on SpankingTube of my latest visit at Spanking Court. For those who haven’t joined the site, I hope you’ll check out this clip and it might get your curiosity going. At any rate, it’s a fun clip, clearly showcasing the battle between the Court Disciplinarian and me. 😀 Check out his gloating face when the Judge says I’m getting 150 strokes.

So far, the comments on the clip have been positive, but a couple of naysayers have complained that it’s too much “blah blah blah” and not enough spanking action. It’s a preview, kiddies. Of course they’re not going to show a lot of action. If they showed all the spanking, you wouldn’t bother looking up the entire video, now would you? Now go watch some of those delightful long clips of screaming, crying women being beaten into hamburger, jack off, and shut your yaps. 🙂

Oh, and there’s a fun little write-up of the preview on the Spanking Court blog, too.

Hope everyone is having a good week so far. And if you’re lacking in laughs, may I suggest checking out Lea’s uproarious treatise on cursing?


This will not be the typical Monday night blog. Tonight was much more personal; there are no pictures. In a way, I don’t feel like blogging about it. But I know I need to.

Looking at all those old photo albums kind of stirred up a hornets’ nest. Feelings and memories resurfaced. I hated most of those shots; I hated my life when those shots were taken. So I ridiculed them. And I invited you all to ridicule them with me.

None of you did. And ST was none too pleased with me.

There was no opening small talk when he came in. He grabbed my hand, pulled me into the bedroom and sat me down on the bed. Then he told me what he thought of my last couple of blogs, and of the awful things I’d said about my pictures.

“You knew a lot of assholes back then,” he said. “But you don’t have to keep buying into and perpetuating their lies.”

I was honestly bewildered. “I’m not,” I said. “I’m just being honest. Those pictures are ugly. I WAS ugly.”

“No, you weren’t. What did you expect people to say when they saw them?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno — ‘Gee, Erica, you sure cleaned up good’?” He laughed.

“I want you to recognize the lies; I want you to see what everyone else sees,” he said, sitting next to me. “That you were beautiful then, and you’re beautiful now.”

Fucking tears. Always at the ready. Endless, bottomless well of the damn things. “Stop it,” I mumbled, ducking my head. “You’re going to make me cry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at those pictures and not find them hideous.” And then the waterworks started.

He pulled me close. “Don’t think because you’re crying that I’m not going to spank you,” he warned. But he was too tender-hearted to do it at that moment. I lay in his arms, facing away from him. Even then, the internal nattering wouldn’t stop. Don’t look at me. I look ugly when I cry. My eyes swell, my makeup smears, my nose gets red like a boiled lobster. Don’t. Look. At. Me.

Quite the opposite from my usual “look at me! look at me!” demeanor.

We talked a bit, my tears dribbling down the whole time, him stroking my hair. I felt embarrassed about my recent blogs, ashamed of still being so goddamn full of grief over my past. I thought I’d exorcised a lot of that, writing my book. But then all that old crap comes back and feels as fresh as is it were yesterday.

“You can talk about your feelings,” he said quietly. “You can tell people about what happened to you. But you don’t get to put yourself down. You don’t get to continue where they left off.”

I told him random things, fleeting thoughts and memories that skittered into my head. I talked about the time John was getting his hair cut and I was reading a magazine, and his barber called across the room, “And how are YOU, gorgeous?” I heard him. I went on reading and didn’t answer. “Um, sweetie?” John said. “He’s talking to you.” My head jerked up in shock. It honestly didn’t occur to me that he’d meant me.

“He couldn’t have been talking to me,” I murmured to ST. “Who would call me gorgeous, right?”

“I would,” ST replied. Oh, damn him and his being so nice. How did he expect me to stop crying when he was being so sweet?

Finally, I did. And he took me across his lap. Rubbing my back, he said, “I don’t really feel like spanking you now.”

But of course, he did. Lightly at first. Then not so lightly.

It went on for a long time. I don’t know how long. He kept it simple: just his hand, one small leather strap and a wooden paddle. We did not switch positions; he kept me OTK for the whole thing. And — definitely a first — neither one of us spoke a word. No banter, no dialogue. No sending me to get more implements, no stopping to take pictures. We kept going — him silent and determined, me accepting and absorbing. The pain was love and comfort and I wanted it.

I didn’t shed a tear during the spanking itself. When he stopped, I cried again then. I felt like one enormous exposed nerve. But safe. And so, so very grateful for his presence. For the caring. For his not abandoning or rejecting me.

It was a long time before we talked. Talking would bring me back to reality, and I wanted to stay in the bubble for a while. I guess he did too. Eventually, though, we slipped into comfortable chitchat. Then it was time for him to go. It was raining out, and his pup was home waiting for him.

Because we took no pictures tonight, I’m going to post another old one. But this time, it’s one of my favorite photos. Many of you have seen it; I had it up in my old MySpace album, and I have it in my Facebook album. Some of you have not. I was 23 years old.

To this younger version of myself, I share these thoughts.

I’m sorry we had so much pain. Being shy, painfully self-conscious and awkward shouldn’t be an invitation for ridicule.

I’m sorry people exploited our vulnerability and desperation to belong, and we were too sensitive to let it roll off. Instead, we absorbed it and believed it all.

More than anything else, though, I’m sorry I wished you were someone else. I’m sorry I ridiculed you and put you down. Because I was the last person in the world who should have done so.

I am 54 years old. Lifelong habits are hard to break. But it’s not enough to embrace who I am now; I need to make peace with who I was, as well. I have, somewhat. Just have some more work to do, I guess.

And now, before I lose my nerve and delete all this, I’m going to hit Publish.

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