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, 2012”

Pre-emptive Strike(s)

Many strikes. Hundreds of them. What for? Nothing I’d done. No, these were what ST thinks I’m going to do. He say I’m going to get addicted to my new Smart Phone and be on it all the time, like everyone else.

Jeeeezus. I haven’t even gotten the @#$%ing thing yet and I’m already in trouble for it.

I protested that I wouldn’t do any such thing. He didn’t believe me. He even had the nerve to suggest that I’ll be on my cell phone tweeting and texting and doing God knows what while he’s spanking me.

“That’s ridiculous! Why would I even turn on my cell in my apartment? I have a landline and a computer here!”

Makes sense, right? But of course, to a spanker, the only logic is Top Logic and anything else is null and void. Humph. I guess I’ll just have to prove it to him. He also warned me that if I ever text and drive, I’ll never sit again. Not to worry… I don’t intend to. With all the ranting and bitching I’ve done about other people doing it, I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if I did it myself!

He congratulated me for being Chrossed, to which I moaned that I hadn’t been Chrossed for two weeks in a row. “You’re Chrossed lots of times!” he said. “You don’t have to be every single week!”

“But I want to be every week!” I whined.

“Oh, so it’s all about what you want, huh?”

Duh. Well, of course it is. What else would it be about? Silly of him to even ask such a thing.

“Well then, I guess I should spank you really hard, then, so you’ll have something to write about.”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to. Even if you’re light, I can spin it.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean, spin it?”

I said that I’d simply write a post about what a lame-ass he was tonight.

That did it. Me and my big mouth.

We changed things up a bit tonight, position-wise. He said we needed to make the pictures a little different. Hey, I’m all for that. But I didn’t know “different” was going to be so damned uncomfortable.

Doesn’t seem like it should be all that uncomfortable, does it? Well, it was. The top of the chair was digging into my belly and my shoulders ached from bracing with my arms.
Booo hoooooo. Yes, he felt so sorry for me. NOT.
After a while, he let me stand up and grip the chair. So nice of him, don’t you think? I wasn’t rolling my eyes, honest. I was looking skyward and thanking the deities for the kindness of this man.

Ah, finally I got to lie down. Funny, though… I didn’t find a whole lot of comfort in that either.

But finally, we had our grand finale (20 with the big strap and 10 with the paddle). I was just a tad perplexed when he put me back over his knee, but this time it was just so he could massage on some lotion. 🙂

Silly me, I thought we were done.

Nah. Later, I got up to change the channel on the stereo. Apparently, my bending over got him all hot and bothered again.

I swear, it’s like a red flag in front of a bull! Back OTK I went for Round Two.

(And yes, those are cassette tapes. Not a word out of any of you. They’re old and I don’t play them anymore; most of them have been replaced by CDs or iTunes downloads. But I am a saver.)

He kept saying, “Just a few more.” But then he got into a debate with himself about exactly what is “a few,” anyway? More than two, less than 10? A few dozen? A few hundred? All the while he was musing over this nonsense, he was spanking away.

Oh yes, ST was in good form tonight. (groan)

It was a fun night; a lot of laughing. Sometimes, I just need to laugh. 🙂  He certainly had his share of chuckles as well. (Have I mentioned lately that ST has the most diabolical laugh?)

And tomorrow, I plan to buy the aforementioned Smart Phone. Stay tuned for my adventures with that. I’m sure my Luddite self will be tested to the max!

OT: Dragged into technology, kicking and screaming

OK, y’all. Most of you know I’m kind of a Luddite. Also, most of you know that I hate the phone. If I could correspond with everyone via email for the rest of my life, I would. Receiving phone calls is like having someone drop in on me unexpectedly (which I hate), and I don’t like making calls either, as I always feel like I’m bothering or interrupting people.
That said, I’ve decided to get a Smart Phone.

Why, you ask? I’ll tell you.

1. Last weekend, I got lost. Literally. There was a mega-accident on the freeway on the way home from John’s, and I had to take an exit I’d never taken before. Once off the freeway, I had not a clue where I was, or in which direction I was heading. It was Easter Sunday and everything was closed. Panic-stricken, I pulled over, turned on my antiquated cell phone and called John at home. “I’m lost. I’m on the corner of Flower and Sonora.” He Google-mapped it, asked me a couple of questions as to what I was looking at (could I see a freeway if I looked ahead of me or behind me, etc.), and then gave me directions to find my way. I was rattled for a long time afterward. There is no excuse in this day and age to get lost anywhere.

2. Neither John nor I have laptops. (Yes, I know there was talk about my getting one last year, but that never happened. I was too overwhelmed over the variety and decided to wait.) So, we’re both dependent upon our desktops at home for the Internet. This past Friday (the 13th, naturally), John’s computer crashed and he had to take it to the shop. Which meant I was Internet-less once I left my place for his. I admit it; I’m an Internet junkie. I finally (and with much embarrassment) told him last night that I wanted to go to Fed-Ex Office to check my email/blog comments. Ridiculous.

3. Boardwalk Badness. Again, no laptop to bring with us. Therefore, we would be Internet-less from early Thursday morning until Monday afternoon. That sucks. Enough is enough. Everyone seems to have non-stop access to the Net, either via phone, tablet or laptop these days. I want it too.

So I’ve been researching and reading, and I’ve been to my local Verizon store and spoke at length with a salesperson. (Verizon is my carrier.) I know a lot of you might squawk at this and tell me no no NO, but I’m not getting an iPhone. I have my reasons. First and foremost, I want a phone with a proper physical keyboard. I hate touch screens. Hate. Them. I tried using one in the Verizon store and couldn’t even type my address without a ton of typos. Second, the Android phones come equipped with GPS; the iPhones do not, you have to add that. Third, the Androids have a bigger screen, which I also want.

I’ve read a million reviews, and they all conflict. I read a bunch of them for the Droid, and they varied from “Great phone!” to “Worst phone ever!” So, just for giggles, I also read reviews on the iPhone. Guess what? Also a spread between five-star raves to one/two-star rants. Not everyone thinks that Apple products are the Holy Grail. Oh, and I don’t need access to the iTunes library. I’m not putting music on my phone; I have an MP3 player for that. Nor am I watching videos. I watch videos on my TV screen, not a tiny little phone screen. (Never could understand how people can stand to watch anything on a screen the size of a couple of dominoes.)

Apparently people say the same thing about ALL the Smart Phones’ batteries: they all suck. They all don’t last. So I’ll deal with that regardless of the brand.

Finally, and this made me laugh like hell: While researching and comparing, I stumbled across an article about Steve Wozniak (you know, the co-founder of Apple?). In this article, he sheepishly admits that he prefers his Android phone to his iPhone. LOL! He hastens to add that the iPhone is a better phone overall, though. Right, Woz. If that’s so, then why do you have an Android in the first place?

The Verizon salesperson made a good point. Since this is my first Smart Phone, I’m not going to notice any of the nuances between Android and iPhone; no matter what I get, it will be a huge improvement over what I have now and it will keep me happily entertained for a very long time. She said they haven’t been getting any complaints about the Droids (although they’ve gotten several about the Blackberry, so I scratched that off), and once I get more Smart-Phone savvy, I could always get an iPhone somewhere down the line. In the meantime, the Droid has both the regular keyboard AND the touch screen, so perhaps I could practice on that. After all, I wouldn’t be surprised if regular keyboards on phones become obsolete in the future.

With a proper keyboard, I may even learn to like texting. I mean, it certainly would suit me better, given that I feel less intrusive texting rather than calling. However, I will swear this to you all now, and you can hold me to it: I will NEVER TEXT AND DRIVE. Never. And if I go back on that, forget about spanking. Take the phone away from me and don’t give it back. Seriously. I have verrrrrry strong feelings about people who are careless behind the wheel of a car. I lost a loved one that way.

And oh! I’ll have a camera! Granted, the camera on the Droid is supposed to be mediocre. Still, it’s 8 megapixels. And right now, my cell phone has no camera. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been driving through John’s canyon and seen a deer, and thought, “I wish I had a camera with me.”

So I plan to buy my new phone sometime next week and fiddle with it before the party. Hopefully by the time BBW weekend rolls around, I’ll be somewhat acclimated to it.

Go ahead, laugh. I know I sound like I’m buying God knows what. But remember, technology and I are not comfortable bedfellows.

What’s next for me, a flat-screen TV??

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 4/13

It’s Friday the 13th! By all accounts of superstitious lore, it’s supposed to be a bad day. (The new Three Stooges movie was released today; perhaps all those triskaidekaphobics have it right after all.) However, it’s pouring rain outside and I’m feeling quite safe and serene. So forget the calendar and have some fun with me.

Little lady u r beyond all thats real,noway to explain u.

“Little lady”? Who are you, John Wayne’s ghost? And really, what’s to explain? I may be a complex woman, but I’m not particle physics.
I would love to spank you hard. And afterwards, go down on you, have insane sex with you and again spank you when you need to get wet… I am sub but also love to spank and play with a woman like you… I bet you get so wet…
I’m quite wet now, honey. Know why? Because reading this crap brought on a powerful need to take a shower.
I’d love for you to play bad mommy with me and mollest me in my sleep
Why don’t you go to sleep and dream that I’m molesting you, sonny boy. Because it won’t happen any other way.
Well, may I say you look fabulously sprightly for your age.
No, you may not. Sprightly?? Who the @#$% am I, Granny Clampett?
I know some people out there might think I write these missives myself. But honestly, I do not. This last one has to be real, because there’s no way I could make it up.
254 miles is only a hot rainbow to the pot of hot steaming love gold. So let’s cash it in for pleasure beautiful goddesses of my passion. That I hold deep in side my soul that only a lady of desire would understand……….let’s email this and follow the rainbow ….my love.
OK, there’s something hot and steaming here, but it’s not gold. You’re 254 miles from me? Good. Stay there.
And finally, here are a few of those wonderfully whacky search phrases people have used to find my blog.
smarty bitches in panties
This smarty bitch is usually not in panties whenever ST is around.
underage girl spanking
First of all, ewwww. And second, how the hell did anything to do with underage girls lead to me? That’s like Googling “rocket scientists” and coming up with the cast of Jersey Shore.
surprise injection panties down
Say it with me — WTF? I don’t want to know what that injection is, and if you want to surprise me, stick with flowers or some chocolate, OK?
The rain just turned into a deluge of a thunderstorm. I suppose I should wrap this up before there’s a power glitch. Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

Odds and ends not in my book, part 9

A Former Play Partner

At the Labor Day Shadow Lane party in 2004, I had one of what I call my “Oh my god, who is that” moments. Doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it’s powerful — I’ll see someone at a party, in a kink photo, etc., someone I don’t know, but to whom I’ll feel an instant, inexplicable attraction. In this case, he was chatting with a friend of mine, so I immediately cornered her and asked who he was. I’ll never forget what she said:

“Oh, that’s J. Isn’t he gorgeous? He looks like Orlando Bloom, but masculine!”

My dear friend wasted no time in letting him know I wanted to play with him, and he took me by the hand and led me into one of the suite bedrooms, where we had an awesome first scene. Lucky, lucky me, I then found out he was local.

J was younger; early-mid 30s to my late 40s. Smart, funny, very flirtatious. And while he enjoyed spanking, he had other passions as well: women’s feet, and tickling. Did you know there are tickling groups and parties, just like our spanko parties? Granted, tickling is not my thing. But I liked him. So we compromised; he could tickle me, massage and nibble my feet all he wanted, but he had to give me a damn good spanking too. I’d even make sure I got a pedicure before seeing him, so my feet would be soft and pretty.

His life was busy. He had never married, but he had two kids from a former relationship, and she was a bit of a flake. So, although it was supposed to be shared custody, he ended up with most of it. Plus he worked ridiculously long hours. So I didn’t see him very often. However, I have two standout memories of him.

We had a play date one evening; I was over the moon that he was going to make it, because he’d had to cancel the last time. When he arrived, he came in bearing a white paper bag. “What’s that?” I asked. “Oh, just a little present for you,” he said, handing it to me. “I felt bad about standing you up before.”

I looked inside and screeched with delight. It was a huge piece of my favorite cake, from my favorite coffee house/bakery. I recognized it immediately. I’d never told him about this place or that cake — how the hell did he know??

He teased at first, saying he was clairvoyant. But then he admitted that he’d spoken to a mutual friend of ours, and she’d told him, “You really want to blow Erica’s mind? Stop and pick up a piece of this cake for her.” So he did. And it was out of his way, too.

After we played, I offered to share the cake with him, but he declined. So I sat cross-legged on the bed in my underwear, blissfully scarfing this slab of cake, while he watched me and smiled at my glee.

Another time, he was inadvertently the cause of one of the hottest scenes John and I have ever had. We’d been to a local party, and J was there as well, so after it broke up, he invited us and a couple of others back to his place. He lived in an area with permit parking, so John and I had to park several blocks away.

When it was late and we were preparing to leave, J and I were talking about having another play date and he said, “Don’t forget that pedicure.” John overheard. “Pedicure?”

“She always gets a pedicure before she sees me,” J explained. “Oh, really?” John said, raising an eyebrow at me. I just shrugged. I mean, what’s the big deal? It’s a pedicure, not a bikini wax.

But after we left, John was strangely silent as we walked in the darkness. Finally, he spoke. “You’re getting pedicures for other men?”

(Now I knew, in my rational mind, that John couldn’t care less about this. But in the moment, it felt real, and extremely crucial.)

I squirmed. “Well, he likes my feet.”

“Isn’t that rather intimate?” I shrugged again.

We got to my car, and I started to get into the driver’s side. “No,” he commanded. “Give me the keys. I’m driving.”

Mystified (and nervous), I got into the passenger’s side. He got in, shut the door, and faced me. “If you can do special, intimate things for other men, you can for me, too. Take off your clothes.”

I was speechless. “All of them?” I managed to squeak.

“All of them.”

Mortified (and very excited), I slowly removed my sweater, sundress and panties. “You can leave your heels on.”

And then he drove home. I could not cover myself up in any way, and he deliberately took the route with the most traffic. All the way, he taunted and teased me, reached over to touch me. “What’s the matter? You’re shaking! Can’t you answer me? Cat got your tongue? Oh my, I do believe those truckers are high up enough in their cab to see that you’re naked.”

Finally, finally, we got home. I think we went from the garage to the bedroom in seconds flat. And I had such a powerful orgasm, I wept afterward. (Sorry if that’s TMI!)

Later in 2005, J got into a relationship, and we couldn’t play anymore. (sigh) Been there, done that. But at the end of 2006, I heard from him. He was single again, and wanted to know if I knew of “any strikinging beautiful brunettes in the mood for a little slap and tickle.” (Told you he was a flirt.)

By then, I was in a very happy play partnership/friendship with Danny, but you know me… always room for more spanking! After I replied and said I’d love to see him, he wrote again and said he’d call me between Christmas and New Year’s. He never did. And that was the last I heard from him.

What made me think of J, after all these years? Believe it or not, I stumbled across him on Facebook, of all places. I sent him a friend request, which he accepted. Last week, I dropped him a little note, saying it was nice to find him here, that I still had fond memories of him and I hoped life was treating him well these days.

Yesterday, I saw he’d replied. I figured it would be just a quick, polite note, “Nice to see you again too, hope you’re well” sort of thing. But it was three paragraphs.

What a turnaround. He’s now married with a new baby, and owns his own business. Looks like the player settled down.

His first paragraph read as follows:

Thanks, Erica. I still have fond memories too. Even though you may be known as a feisty wise-apple, you were always so sweet to me. Not to mention you would indulge me in my passion, despite the fact it did nothing for you. I had a lot of fun with you, and it was always a pleasure.

That made me smile. And tear up a little, too. Why? Not sure. Maybe because it reminds me of all the people who have slipped away. Sometimes, I wish these people were still realities, and not just fond memories.

But such is life. Blowing a kiss to all who haven’t gone away.

What was that reason again?

Oh, that’s right, I forgot. ST never needs a reason. If he doesn’t have one, he makes one up. (put-upon eye roll)

Tonight, he was in quite the evil mood. Had a new and special way to mess with my head; he kept giving me light little taps with the implements, running them over my skin, brushing them against me, more light taps. And then when I’d least expect it, WHAM! I never knew when to brace myself, when to take a deep breath, when to hunker down. And that’s exactly what he wanted.

At one point, he took soooooo excruciatingly long, teasing me with the strap, that I finally blurted, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He laughed. “Am I boring you?

Before I could answer, he gave me several fast and hard whacks. “Was that boring?”

“I never said anything was boring!” I shrieked. Damn these tops! I can get myself into plenty of trouble without them putting words in my mouth!

Later, over the ottoman, he started up with the taps and brushes again. “Take that!” he teased. “Bet you won’t do that again… whatever that was.”

“AHA!” I yelped in triumph. “I knew it! You don’t even know what you’re spanking me for — you just make shit up!”

No more tapping. “You wanna take that back?”

“I can’t take it back! It’s said! You can’t unsay things!”

“I suggest you try. Say it backwards.”

Oh, good grief. “UP SHIT MAKE JUST YOU!” I yelled.

Thank goodness he was satisfied with that; I didn’t have to actually say the words backward. Uoy tsuj ekam tihs pu sounds like a foreign language.

He switched gears somewhere in the middle; went from playful to his more sinister side. His voice deepened, roughened; his hand fisted in my hair. When his fingernails dragged across tenderized flesh, I had to bury my face in the pillow.

“Please!” I cried. “Please, please!”

“Are you begging me?” he murmured. “I like it when you beg. I like it when you struggle, too.” And I was doing plenty of that, writhing all over the ottoman. My mind screamed, “When is he going to stop??” My body sent a clear and opposing message: “Don’t stop.”

I don’t know why tonight’s photos don’t show the red. Because it was most definitely there.

Finally, I felt cool, smooth wood moving back and forth, back and forth across my cheeks. “You know what’s next, don’t you?” I nodded.

“Ten more.” I nodded again.

“They’re going to be hard and fast.” I moaned, clutched the pillows.

“Are you ready?” One more nod. But still, he didn’t strike. More caressing, back and forth. I waited, shaking, legs twitching. “You sure you’re ready?”

“I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” I managed to say.

He delivered. So fast, I couldn’t count. But I knew after 10, he’d stop.

Several minutes later, he asked me how I was. “Spacy,” I murmured. I was bonelessly relaxed, mush-brained, and had the urge to giggle. Perfect.

We talked for a long time afterward, and it ended up being later than his usual time to leave. So guess who was in trouble for that?? Of course, he had to test all the toys before he put them away. Just to “make sure they still worked,” he said.

“This is so wrong!” I protested. “Next week I’ll remind you to leave on time, and you’ll tell me I’m throwing you out and I’m a rude hostess!”

He didn’t deny it. Rather despicable, isn’t he? And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

In other news: VOD (Video on Demand) site just put up its very first clips from Spanking Court! In Spanking Court Cases Vol. 1, there are two scenes, and Scene 1 is one of mine. 🙂 It’s the one where the Court Disciplinarian and I face the judge, I have to confess to the name I called the C.D., and I get 200 wooden paddle strokes (and break down and cry). Scene 2 is with Alex Reynolds, the friend I met last week. I believe she cries in her scene as well. So this is a great clip for those who enjoy tears. (I wonder if it’s the clip of hers where she broke the C.D.’s paddle? hee hee)

Here’s a photo, speaking of red — probably the most marked you will ever see me:

That’s Judge Spanks, AKA Feenix on Fetlife. You can read all about the clip (and download it, if you so desire) here.

Two-and-a-half weeks to BBW!

None of your @#$%ing business, Beulah

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