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”

All over the map on Sunday night

Not literally. I’m home and it’s rather cozy and quiet in here, with the heater going to combat the chill from outdoors. My mind is wandering, however, as it does often.

On Thursday night, John was walking down the street in the dark, and didn’t see a coil of wire lying on the ground. In a freakish accident, he stepped on the wire and it sprang up, tangling itself around his feet. He went down hard, bearing his full weight onto his right knee. He’d put his hands out and both got scraped/bruised, but the impact was on the knee.

Friday, I was distracted and worried about him and had a crappy day. Capped it off by misjudging the distance from the wall while exiting my garage space. I’ve lived in this apartment for nearly 21 years and have never done that… until now. Scraped up the driver’s side of my car. It was dark and I was disoriented, and the sound was awful; I made it worse by trying to extricate myself. Ugh. Finally got onto the freeway — and landed in the midst of a Sig-Alert from a very bad wreck. Took me 1 hour and 40 minutes to get to John’s, normally about a 50- to 60-minute drive. By the time I got there, I was not a happy camper. And John’s knee was the size of a cantaloupe. It didn’t even look like a knee. Poor baby. He’d been icing it; he said it was even worse before.

So we spent most of the weekend home, parked on the couch and watching stuff, elevating and icing John’s knee. By today, it was starting to resemble a human knee once again, and he said he could feel his kneecap (which he hadn’t been able to do for two days). Icepacks are wonderful things. When we went out to eat, we made sure to get booths so he could prop his foot up on the opposite seat. He wasn’t in much pain, but every time he stood upright or kept his leg down, the damn thing would swell. He promised me he’ll take it easy this week at work.

Got home late this afternoon. A couple of scene friends are in town for a few days and one of them had messaged me about a spanking party they were going to this evening, saying John and I were welcome to come and if we wanted to, just text him and he’d send the address. Well, of course John was out, but I could have gone. If I were a different sort of person, that is — more spontaneous. But I can’t do anything last-minute to save my life, even if it’s something I’d enjoy. Here I was, in sweats with grubby hair and no makeup, feeling kind of sleepy and glad to be home, and the thought of jumping in the shower, washing my hair and blowing it out, putting on makeup, dressing up and driving somewhere in the Hollywood Hills sounded about as probable as flapping my arms and flying to the moon. (sigh) I am who I am. Would have liked to be there, though. But I don’t think I would have had as much fun without John, anyway. I don’t like going to things alone. I did enough of that in my earlier years to last a lifetime.

I confess, I was bamboozled by the reactions to the photos I posted in the last blog. I’d expected that everyone would laugh with me and tactfully agree that yes, I looked hideous. Instead, one after another, you all said the opposite. So I wondered, just what the hell happened? Had I imagined it all? All the ridicule, the insults, the teasing, the unkind names, the snubbing? If I wasn’t that horrible looking, why was everyone, including my own family, so damned mean?

I talked about it with John; he said it probably wasn’t so much about how I looked, but what kind of vibes I put out. Very good point. I had no confidence, I was shy and awkward, desperately wanted to be accepted and popular, and that hunger and vulnerability rose off me like an unwelcome stench. I was wide open for being picked on, and when I overreacted to it, I invited more.

Being hypersensitive is not an asset, sometimes. What he said made sense. Add to that growing up in a Hollywood family in Beverly Hills; I was held to a ridiculously high standard. But perhaps if I’d had a confident, outgoing personality, a relaxed demeanor, instead of being this uptight, frightened little mouse, people would have overlooked the baby fat, the braces and the kinky hair.

Doesn’t really matter, I guess. It was what it was. Everyone who posted nice comments, thank you. They all came as a shock, but I appreciate them.

Trust me on this, though; I was somewhat overweight. No, not morbidly obese. But y’all have seen me for years; you’re used to seeing my body a certain way, the way it’s been for a long time. Now picture it packing on another 35 pounds. Again, not obese, but definitely an Erica you wouldn’t recognize. One who wore clothes that were several sizes larger.

Can you stand one more picture? This will surely crack you up; it’s a 70s relic. In 1971-72, I used to hang out at a rec center in a nearby park, shooting pool, watching movies they screened, etc. On my 14th birthday, the gang there gave me a goofy card they’d drawn up and signed. On the front, someone had drawn a girl’s body in a crop top and bell-bottom pants, and then they’d found a picture of me somewhere, cut off the head and shoulders and pasted it on top of the drawing. I just found that old card in a drawer a couple of days ago. Ready?

Happy BIRTDAY, indeed. And yes, I was a BIG girl. Here’s a close-up of that top portion:

Ye gods. Come on, you can say it, that’s a chunky face. I won’t get mad. 🙂 Jeeez, who would have thought I’d look so much better a full 40 years later?? LOL

Anyway, enough of this. Tomorrow it’s play time!

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

OT: Embarrassing fun with my new scanner

In my plodding, reluctant efforts to drag myself into more up-to-date computer equipment, I recently chucked my fax and my really crappy old printer and bought a new combo Epson printer/scanner/copier. I even set it all up myself, which is no small feat, considering that electronics and I are not friends. And I’ve never had a scanner before, so this is a fun new treat. Did some digging into antiquated photo albums…

For those who read my book or who have known me for some time, you’ll recall that I’ve said I was a cute baby and little girl, but then things went awry and I went into an Ugly Duckling phase that lasted from around age 8 to my mid-teens. People tell me that I’m exaggerating, that I should produce pictorial evidence. Honestly, there isn’t much of it. Aside from school photos, there are very few pictures of me in existence during that phase, and thank goodness. However, I did manage to dig up a few, so you can get some inkling.

First, we’ll start with the cute stuff. Here I am on my first birthday. Yup, you can tell it’s me — my mouth is open.

OK, here comes the big “awwwwwww” moment. My brother’s Bar Mitzvah — I was three weeks shy of five years old (and I’d already learned how to smirk):

Look at those little gloves! “Hee hee, I look adorable and I know it.” Yeah, enjoy it, little girl. In a few years, you’ll look like this:

AAAACCCCK! My sixth-grade school photo; I was eleven. Braces and chubby face in full splendor.

Here I am at 13, holding our enormous orange cat Henry:

Will you look at that schnozz?? Now you know why the other kids called me Pinocchio.

Trying to hide behind Henry and failing utterly:

Back then, when people told me to haul ass, I had to make two trips. And I hadn’t even reached my peak weight yet; that was at age 15. And no, I have no photos of that, mercifully.

Oh, and speaking of my book, you’ll also remember my father’s evil third wife, Vampira. Here’s a rarity — me, my dad and the wicked witch in one photo, on my 18th birthday:

Get a load of those nails! No wonder I had nightmares of her clawing me to shreds. Of the three smiles in this picture, I’d venture to say the only one that’s genuine and heartfelt is my father’s. (“Whew, my two girls are getting along tonight.”) Right, Dad. Have another drink. (sigh)
Gotta love those old photo albums! The pictures have been in them for so long, they were stuck fast to the pages and I couldn’t peel them off, so I had to stick the whole album in the scanner. Still worked, though.
Hope y’all got a few giggles out of this. I’ll see what other treasures I can find in the pictorial archives. 😀

What do you guys make of this?

A couple of months ago in a CHoS, I included a rather disconcerting correspondence I had with a guy from Alt.com. You may recall — nice at first, talked with him, then he morphed into a dick (literally). Rather than link to that entire post, I’m pasting the pertinent section below for a refresher:

Last week, I got a reply on my Alt.com profile from a man who lives four miles from me. His note was brief, but respectful, and he attached a photo, a face shot, just as I requested in my profile. Nice. He also included his phone number and said “let’s talk.”

We had a nice conversation. He asked me a lot of questions, wanted to know about limits and tolerance, preferences, etc. Among other things, I told him that I love scolding, but I do not like verbal degradation and rough talk. “I totally get it,” he said. Then he said that because he wasn’t a top tier member on Alt, he couldn’t see my pictures, only a thumbnail of the profile shot. Could I send him a few photos? Sure, I said, and he gave me his email.

I selected a couple of shots and sent them to him. And then I got this in return:

Very nice. I’ll enjoy brutalizing your ass.

I felt like I’d been socked in the gut. Did he not hear a word I’d said? Brutalize? I don’t want to be freaking brutalized.

I didn’t reply. Then, last Monday, I got another email from him. This time, a close-up shot of his hand clutching his erect member. This is what’s in my pants. Call me.

My Alt profile clearly states, in bold: “I want to see your face, not your dick. Please don’t send me X-rated pictures.”

I felt violated, like I’d experienced some sort of bait-and-switch. He was a gentleman at first, then as soon as he got me to nibble the bait, he became someone else. I thought I had better instincts than this; why was I so fooled? Was it because he was good looking? Am I that shallow? (yeah, I am, somewhat. Who am I kidding?)

I wrote back: “(sigh) If I wanted to see that, I would have stayed at my boyfriend’s house.” He wrote back: “I am not your boyfriend.” Well, duh.

The next day, he wrote once more, asking if I was ready to come over for a spanking. I didn’t reply. I was done. When he didn’t hear from me, he sent me this: Clearly u r not ready to be spanked by a man like me. I thought we had a very clear and connected chat.

I didn’t reply to that either, and figured that was the end of it. Here’s the weird part: Ever since then, whenever I check my “Who’s Viewed Me” page on Alt, his face pops up. He has looked at my profile nearly every day for two months. Why is he still looking at me? I’ve updated the verbiage a little bit, but nothing major is new. No new pictures. Certainly no reason for him to keep viewing.

Then a couple of days ago, lo and behold, I get a message from him:

well… r u finally ready for an intense spanking session. You know you want it. (his name and phone number)

No, honey. Clearly, you want it. I already have it, every Monday.

I didn’t answer that and I don’t intend to. But it baffles and amuses me. I wonder many things. First, this may sound like I’m putting myself down, but it’s just reality — he’s a very handsome and fit man, and he’s 15 years my junior. He could have his pick of the cute young things who don’t necessarily care that he’s an a$$hole. Why is he persisting with me?

Is it because he’s not used to women turning him down, and that sticks in his craw? Or is it because he’s not doing as well on Alt as he thought he would, so he came back to someone he managed to semi-fool once, in hopes that he could pique her curiosity? I just love how he puts it off onto me — am I ready for him? Like he’s the Holy Grail of tops and I should be honored that he’s giving me another chance?

Same kind of deal — it’s tempting to write back and tell him what I think of him. But I think it will be more frustrating, ultimately, for him if I say nothing at all.

Takes all kinds, y’all. Once again, a million kudos to the Good Guys out there. 🙂

"They all @#$%ing hurt"

That title is the short version of tonight’s blog. 🙂

OK, so I’m not going with the short version. There’s a surprise.

I had decided to be brave and try something new, toy-wise. I’d read on Cane-iac about their Delrin canes, made of a “thermoplastic polymer” that is flexible and virtually unbreakable. I figured since I’m constantly breaking rattan canes, perhaps one of these would be a better investment.

So I chose a basic short Delrin cane, 18″ long. After I ordered it, I heard from the Cane Master, informing me that they were including a few extra treats for my testing/playing pleasure, to thank me for all the kind words in my blog. How nice!

The package arrived and I unwrapped my new Delrin cane, plus: 1) another Delrin they call the Tearjerker; a red rubber paddle; and a spiral acrylic cane. All of these were atypical for me and I knew I was in for a challenge. Especially when ST came over tonight and I told him about them; he was practically falling over himself dragging me into the bedroom to experiment. “There’s work to be done!” he crowed. Oh, brother.

Unfortunately, someone was so eager to try the new stuff, he completely forgot the warmup, so I was feeling these new items cold. Aggghh! I complained so vociferously, he said I was ungrateful about my presents. I then had to take five from each toy, repeating after each, “Thank you, Cane-iac, for my wonderful gifts.” And that was just the beginning.

A little after the fact, he then gave me a bit of warmup with the leather spanking buddy, which I’d given him for Christmas. We both love that one! Then it was time to put the Delrin and acrylic up against good old rattan, so we could compare the different sensations. (We?? What’s this “WE” sh*t?) For a while, I could tell which was which, accurately describe the varied feelings. But as I became tenderized, they all blended and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t compare them any more. “You sure?” he teased, alternating between them, trying to make me guess, but I just grumbled, “I don’t know! They all fucking hurt!”

He didn’t appreciate my language. Big surprise there, too.

Anyway, here is each implement individually:

This is the 18″ Delrin cane, the one I ordered. As promised, it is flexible but very sturdy, and the length is perfect for OTK. I tend to like these shorter canes, since they don’t wrap. This one is about as thick as the Senior rattan cane, so it’s more on the thuddy side.

The other Delrin cane, the Tearjerker, is 30″ and thinner, only 1/4″. You can bend it into a circle and it won’t break. This one is whippier and stings more.

Below is the spiral acrylic cane. It’s a very pretty piece, and the spiral cut of the cane is perfectly smooth, no sharp edges. It’s light, but it’s very thick and packs a wallop.

And finally, the red rubber paddle:

Looks like it would be stiff, doesn’t it? It isn’t; it’s actually very flexible and floppy, like a slapper. There are two textures; one side is smooth, and one side is rough and nubbly. I preferred the smooth side, so of course ST took great glee in using the rough side. (snort) 

So, what’s the verdict? My favorite of the four is the Tearjerker, believe it or not. “Favorite,” however, is debatable, since it still hurts like hell! The regular Delrin and the acrylic were more on the thuddy side; not as much my cup of tea as I prefer snappy/stinging, but they are beautifully made and bottoms who enjoy thud will definitely go for these. The paddle was slappy and fun, although that rougher side made me cuss. 

Here I am, having survived my product testing session:

But wait — you think that’s it?? Think again.

We went into the living room to watch my latest Spanking Court clip. Yup, it finally went up; the version that had gone up two weeks ago was corrupted and there were still a few issues with that clip that couldn’t quite be fixed. However, it was up in its entirety and it had sound, and it was still a hell of a lot of fun. 🙂 By now, all pretenses of niceties between the Court Disciplinarian and me were off the table and it had become an open battle of wills. The zingers and sarcasm flew, and his facial expressions alone were worth the wait.

ST watched intently, and after it ended, he said, “You really need a good spanking for that. You have no respect for the Court’s authority.”

Say what? “Don’t you think HE took care of that?” I snapped. “No, because you were being a smarty-pants all the way to the end!” ST replied.

“What about him? What was all that crap about ‘oh, what a pleasure this is’ and everything else he said?” I cried. But by then, ST had snatched me by the hand and dragged me BACK into the bedroom. Over the bed I went again.

He picked up his heavy leather strap, similar to the one used in the clip. “I think 50 with this might help remind you to be more respectful.”

Good God, y’all. Usually, I take that strap very well. But now, after being Delrined and acrylic’d and rubbered and caned and what-all, I was already one hot mess of soreness. Those 50 strokes nearly sent me through the ceiling! At one point, I even rolled over onto my back, away from him. But then I rolled back and repositioned myself. He didn’t have to say a word; just waited.

Owwwwwww…

Big meanie was snickering at me because I was wincing when I sat, wincing when I walked, rubbing my butt without even realizing I was doing it. (sulk) Oh, he was proud of himself. I could tell. Freaking tops and their sadistic glee.

Yeah, yeah. Poor me. I hate it so much, I subject myself to it every single week. 😀

Thank you, Cane-iac. You guys are a class act. And thank you, ST. You are too, always. ♥

Oh! Almost forgot. You might remember this photo from last week. Here it is again, after my buddy Dave Wolfe got a hold of it. I have to admit, I looked and looked at it before I finally saw what he’d done to it. Did you guys see it right away? 🙂

"When Danny Met Erica" has a home!

Happy Friday the 13th! I hope everyone has good luck today. I know that my fellow Chrosslings and I did. 🙂

For those who have been following me for a while, you know about the video Danny Chrighton and I produced four years ago, called “When Danny Met Erica.” It was our baby, written and done exactly the way we envisioned it. For a while, Shadow Lane was distributing it for us, but they have stopped the practice of distributing videos from other producers. So the video was homeless for a while.

I’m proud of that film and I wanted it to be available somewhere, dammit. I tried to open a Clips4Sale store, but there was just too damn much rigmarole involved. Scan and send them my driver’s license! Scan and send them one of my bills, for heaven’s sake. Ten-clip minimum to start a store! Screw that noise. So instead, I went to Spanking Library. Granted, they don’t get anywhere near as much traffic as C4S, but it’s OK.

Tony from SL was kind enough to break the video into three clips for me, and so I opened a new store and uploaded the clips yesterday. Here is my official Spanking Library store: Erica Scott clips. Three clips isn’t much of a store, I admit. But I really don’t have anything else to put on there at this point. ST and I have the fun stuff we’ve shot over the past year, but I’ve already posted everything for free, plus they aren’t quite the quality for selling, I don’t think. But that’s all right; really, I just wanted WDME to have a place where people could find it. I do love that film, and I’ll always be glad that I finally got to shoot with Danny. We wanted that for so long.

So I hope anyone who hasn’t seen WDME yet will check it out! Lots of good spanking action — OTK, strapping, hairbrush. And great chemistry, which we had from the first time we met.

Ah, don’t be so mad, sweetie — we’re back on sale! 😀

And speaking of new clip stores: For those who enjoy F/M video, there’s a newbie in Clips4Sale — Dana Kane Spanks. She has recently started shooting premium video and has a small selection of clips to which she will be adding lots more, including some F/F content too. Please drop by and show her some love — she’s fun to watch!

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Thoughts on photo blogs

First, the disclaimer: I mean absolutely no offense to anyone who runs a photo blog. Some of my friends have photo blogs that are adjuncts to their regular blogs, and that’s fine. These are simply my observations and opinions, and I welcome yours, as I’m curious about what others think.

Is it my imagination, or is it true that practically every time I log on, there’s a new spanking-oriented photo site in the blogrolls? Pictures, pictures, pictures. No words. No stories. Oftentimes, not even a reference as to the origins of the photos. Just photos, one after another after another, every day, all over the place.

Can these really be considered a blog? Isn’t a blog a web journal? Doesn’t that imply that writing and creative expression is involved? Where is the creativity in copying and pasting pictures?

Please don’t misunderstand me — I love pictures. I post plenty of my own. But they are always accompanied with writing, a background, a setup. They have a story. They are not there just for the sake of being there.

Granted, I am female, and according to the gender cliches, we are not as visual as males are. But really, how many pictures can you look at before it all becomes redundant? One trend I notice is that the same pictures make the rounds of many of the photo blogs. Click on one blog, there it is. Click on another, there it is again. Posted and reposted. And reposted again.

You don’t even get to read interesting comments on these photo blogs. All you see are lists of people who liked them or reposted them.

Again, where is the creativity? I am old school, I guess. I like the written word. I like to read someone’s thoughts and feelings.

Also, in some of the so-called spanking photo blogs, the photos have nothing to do with spanking. They are simply cute young girls with their butt to the camera. That’s not spanking. And this is my own personal distaste, but I’m really, really getting tired of seeing the straight-on, spread-open kitty and back door shots. Jeeezus…. if I click on a blog looking for a spanking picture, I don’t want some woman’s hoo-ha in my face, so close up I feel like a damn gynecologist. Sure, there are glimpses of private bits in spanking pictures. But I’m talking blatant display here.

Even though there are thousands, perhaps millions of pictures out there, you’re going to get repeats when so many people are posting them. Am I the only one who finds this boring?

Granted, not all the photo blogs are created equal. Some are more varied, some have a particular theme, etc. I didn’t want to name names in this post, but I’d like to call attention to one photo blog I find exceptional — At a Kinky House. Not just a spanking photo blog, but an exploration of kinky romance with gorgeous pictures.

What are your thoughts? Photo blogs, yea or nay? What do you like about them? What do you dislike? If I could make only two suggestions to the photo bloggers, I’d choose these: 1) credit the photos whenever possible, and 2) find some variety, please. Don’t just copy and paste something that’s already been on a dozen other blogs.

Again, I mean no offense, and I am not anti-photos. I just don’t want to see the death of writing; it’s already being tortured by text-speak and crappy grammar.

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