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.


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.

Single Post Navigation

27 thoughts on “Raw

  1. awwwwwwwww… I just β™₯ ST. How on earth does he know to say and do just the right things all the time? I already had a ton of respect for the man.. but he just bumped that up a few notches the way he handled… β™₯ you too!


  2. ST is right- You looked great in your younger days. It may be difficult to break a habit, but it can be done, and I am sure ST and John can help you get through it.


  3. Damn! I cryed all the way through that! πŸ™‚ :thumbsup:


  4. Big hug Erica.


  5. And another hug from me.


  6. I am profoundly touched and pretty much speechless. I just hope you are feeling better now. All the best for you, John and ST.


  7. It appears that ST has pushed up another step to accepting yourself. Good for the both of you. Cyber hugs.


  8. A big hug from me as well.Love,Ronniexx


  9. *hug* Sharing our feelings takes a lot of bravery.


  10. This is really a beautiful post! I think you are beautiful now, and you were beautiful then. I'm sorry you had to go through so much. I totally feel for you there 😦


  11. Hi Erica,this was so emotional and heartwarming ST is so sweet he takes VERY good care of you :-)I am very happy that you have him in your life.I remember that pic of you at 23 years old that is one of my fave pic's of you :-)You were BEAUTIFUL then and you still are BEAUTIFUL and FABULOUS now :-)I am still dealing with my past and present i never liked myself either cause i knew too many mean and evil people that didn't accept me and all they did was put me down 😦 I need love not put downs so i know where you are coming from and how you feel.I LOVE YOU ALWAYS,YOU ARE A WONDERFUL PERSON INSIDE AND OUT,Big hugs from your naughty girl Jade XOXO


  12. This was such a beautiful post. If you are not beautiful then I don't know what beauty is.Poppyxx


  13. Erica, I read this and had to sit with it for awhile. It reminded me of something my Papa told me when I was at a awkward stage. My Boyfriend broke up with me for my best friend. We were 15. I told my Papa that I didn't fit, people didn't understand me, that I wasn't pretty or interested in the same things they were. I said I was a outcast. My heart still aches thinking of that time. He said "Darling, you are not a duck. You are a Swan. And one day soon, when you are grown. You will realize that and realize that what set you apart was far more beautiful and valuable" He was right. I wrote a tweet about good friends last night Erica, I think we were somewhat simpatico. We are rich in friends and love and wit. This is tangible evidence of good fortune.I love your blog a million and one ways.Hugs,Newt


  14. Dear Everyone: You have no idea what your comments mean to me; I appreciate them more than I can say at the moment. In a bit of a raw and mushy state, but I'm OK. Hugs back to all of you. Thank you. β™₯


  15. What a wonderful top and friend you have in ST. Sombody who not only knows what you want but also what you need when you need it even when somtimes you don't know it yourself is truly a treasure. I know I once had a partner like that. I know I'm not telling you anything you don't aready know and you have way more expriance than I with these things but in my limted expriance alot of partners and tops out there have a hard enough time figureing out what you want when you draw them a map! That was a very moving entry you and ST are very special togther. And that is a picture of a very beautiful young women at end also πŸ™‚


  16. Hi girls – you are both sooo lovely!Thank you for sharing, Erica


  17. Wonderful **HUG**


  18. That pic reveals a very lovely, sweet person!!!HUGS,Bob.


  19. When I see that picture I hate FOR you the people who messed with your psyche. NOT that looks should be the entire way we sum ourselves up in how we rank in society, but you were a true cutie. Seems like ST gave you some genuine loving medicine last night. πŸ™‚


  20. Hi EricaBeing a fan of your writing I know that I am biased, So What! You may have come from an unhappy place but you are Lovely and loved Now! Yes, Today the most important day in your life. By the way an amazing picture of Erica 1.0. at 23. I am almost tempted to post that picture of me in a beret, well maybe not today.hugsEmanuele


  21. You guys are wonderful. Again, thank you. I'll be back on tomorrow with something a bit more cheerful, I promise.


  22. Yes. Exactly right.ST, your post, and everyone's remarks.I don't want to break the mood– else I'd reply, "Ditto!"Then you could say, in your best Harvey Korman, "'Ditto?' 'DITTO?' You provincial putz!"But I can't help going for a snicker. Or a snort."Come along with me, you can get a snort yourself."


  23. Reading this I felt a lot like I did when I read your book. Nodding along and nearly a bit teary-eyed myself. I'm glad ST was able to take you to the place you needed to go and hope you can continue your path to acceptance. It IS hard. I've been spanked before for talking bad about myself and it is one of the times I can count on one hand where I cried during a spanking. The memory of the whole scene is still vivid. He had me say out loud "I am beautiful" with each swat and I was just sobbing. It's very difficult to break self critical thinking. Good luck and ST is right, you were beautiful then (love the photo too, btw) and you are now.


  24. You know this is one of my favorite photos, right? You have every right to feel the way you feel, but you gotta know–you ARE beautiful, inside and out. People who know you see it. People who don't see something superficial. It's up to them to see you as who you are.


  25. The picture of you in this post is supposedly of an "ugly" version of you? Umm, okay. Look, I was a pretty hideous teen – I am no matinee idol now, and at 46, I don't have as much hair as I used to nor is it as dark as it used to be. But the point is, I got used to my looks and I grew into my face. Sort of. In any event, my girlfriend apparently does not find me difficult to look at. But I'll always wish I looked different.And that's coming from a guy – in this culture, I can only imagine what kind of self-doubts females go thru.Now, as for the picture specifically – I think she is attractive. She's got almost perfect skin, a pretty face and an intelligent demeanor about her. But I'm guessing she wishes she looked like Farrah Fawcett or some such. Oh well.Lovely then, lovely now, from what I can see.


  26. Erica, I've been thinking about this post and the previous one on the subject and I've re-read them every day since you put them up.I don't think there is any young girl who doesn't suffer from self-image issues. I don't believe that the prom queen/cheerleader types were exempt from those feelings, they just learned to hide it better and compensated by being mean to other girls. I always wondered who had made them so miserable for them to take it out on other people.And as bad as it was for us, I can't imagine being young today with Facebook and the ability to post anything about anybody to a million people instantly. A slightly geeky photo can be mocked and ridiculed by tons of people that you don't even know.I don't know what the answer is. I know that girls are mean (I don't mean every girl, but I think, as a species, we're mean).And here's something else I know. I only see one difference between the pictures of you when you were a teenager and the pictures of you today.In every picture of you today, there is a smile on your face and a light in your eyes. It must have been there sometimes when you were young. You just don't have proof of it in pictures.You are so fierce.I just wanted to say that.I feel like a fangirl.Cindy


  27. The comments keep coming, and people are so kind. I'm touched. Really, I am.To my friends, whether new or familiar, thank you.


Come on, you know you want to say something.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: