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 “June, 2012”

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 6/15

(Yes, I know I’ve used Mr. Kitty’s image before. But this week deserves an encore appearance.)

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve seen both polarities of the online spectrum. After my mother’s passing, I saw just how lovely and supportive our online community can be. But this past week, I’ve witnessed the flip side, rearing its various ugly heads like a cyber-Medusa — hence yesterday’s mini-rant. So what better way to close out this week than with a CHoS?

Haven’t seen one of these for a while — the form letter. Mind you, I received this one not once, but three times. Don’t these guys at least keep track of whom they’ve spammed?

hello my dear

i saw your profile and i love also the picture is wonderful. what i am looking for in my all-in-one-girl is a lover, best friend, my ….. you must be sexy, hot dressed in heels/boots, skirts, communicativ, tender,lovely, understanding, inteligent, faithful, … and a sort of submissive and obdient. i am a good man/dom and it could be your and my dream to go forward and make fantasies come true..

i really will admire her for the devotion and will take good care, protect and support her. be sure, i don’t care any distance, because when we got the connection, we will see where the way goes and leads us. i am single and i am open to relocate you or myself when it is necessary, when i have found the right sub. i am not a player or a time waster – i met to many on this site.

Don’t go updating your passport just yet, dear. And what do you mean, you’re not a time waster? You just wasted mine.

Oh, and lest you think that these form letters only occur on the kink sites, think again. I received this next gem on… wait for it… Facebook!

Good day and how are you doing? Am [deleted] from England, am a single, honest, kind, caring, loyal and God fearing.I came across your profile on facebook and am interested in getting acquainted with you deeply.It will be wonderful experience to have a personality like you.Am single and have been longing for a responsible woman to make my life more complete.

How i wish i live to appreciate you.hope to have an interesting moment to share with you.From the dept of my heart i say to you….you are wonderful.kindly get back to me soon.

Hmmm. Isn’t “getting acquainted deeply” an oxymoron? Nice to know his heart has its own department. Talk about compartmentalizing.

(sigh) I am not a Domme. I am not a Domme. I am not a Domme. Have I made that perfectly clear? Apparently not.

am ready to be all yours, your bitch boy, your sissy maid , your whore and more,

am ready to worship you at your feet, ask you for mercy while am licking your shoes, i`ll be your pet and i`ll live in a cage if u want me to

amd ready to be owned, humiliated, am ready to follow your commands and be punished dor not to,

please make me your loyal slave Mistress

You want commands? OK. Go away.

Instinctively i liked your profile. You seem like a soft and mature woman at it’s most greedy for everything that is good and yummy.

1. I’m not an it, I am a she. 2. Who are you calling “soft,” fool? 3. Yes, I’m greedy for yummy good writing. At the moment, I’m starving.

And finally, a first — my first CHoS entry received via tweet!

I am taking my good stinging straps from my freezer and I wil meat u on my lap in 6.9 minites

I could post several pithy comments here. But honestly, my gut reaction to this was simply, “Ewwww.”

And by the way, how the hell do you measure 6.9 minutes?? I suppose it could be done with a sophisticated chronometer, but I doubt this dumbass would know how to read one.

Can’t do a CHoS without including a couple of those bizarro keyword search phrases people have used to find me, right?

gyno explained

Simple, really. A gyno is a doc who examines those lady parts that the government is trying to control.

contrition blow job

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Dream on, Skippy.

Have a great weekend, y’all. For my friends at TASSP, have fun. And to the fathers (or those of you who have them), happy Father’s Day.

We interrupt this program…

… to bring you this special public service message.

To all of you out there who have the inexplicable need to:

1. Post nasty, personal, anonymous comments on people’s blogs;
2. Criticize people’s videos to pieces, even though you’ve never shot one in your life;
3. Steal other people’s photos and claim them as your own;
4. Create fake profiles/personalities for the sole purpose of harassing others;
5. Perpetrate any and all other forms of online douchebaggery, asshattery, fuckwaddery and just plain meanness —

Please feel free to go fuck yourselves. Because, apparently, no one else will.

Message concluded. Please return to your regularly scheduled perving.

Uncommon sense, Part 2

Told you I was going to get back to this, didn’t I? I hadn’t forgotten.

Today, I’m going to take on the neverending controversy about bratting. I certainly don’t think I’ll resolve the issue, but I’m exploring one specific angle of it. So many of the whens, wheres and hows of bratting come down to common sense, or at least it would seem so. And yet… well, you know. Hence the blog title.

I don’t even like the word “bratting” all that much, because it has a negative connotation and it gets a bad reputation from those who take it too far. It conjures images of childish, obnoxious bottoms rather than clever ones. But because it’s such a universal term, I’m using it anyway.

Because there are so many levels and types of bratting, and so many opinions about them, it’s impossible to quantify what “too much bratting” is. After all, for example, to an Almighty Uber-Dom, a sub who dares to make eye contact is bratting. It’s highly subjective. And it’s also not for everyone. My prolific blogpal Lea has used the simple phrase, “Know your audience.” Wouldn’t you think that’s obvious? Apparently not.

I’m not going to attempt to define “bratting” here, either. I think the best way to approach the subject is by providing stories and examples, of what I think is common-sense, measured bratting vs. the over-the-top variety.

Yes, it’s no secret that I enjoy the practice of smartassery. But as with all humor, there are boundaries. In a perfect spanking world, a sassy, feisty bottom knows how to provoke a top without seriously angering him. (I’m going to use the M/F orientation in this blog, simply because it’s easier than writing him/her and he/she over and over.) So how does one do that?

Obvious common sense rule #1: Don’t follow what you see on spanking videos and read in spanking stories. These are fantasies, kids. The stunts that bottoms pull in these fantasies would, in reality, not get them a spanking. They’d get them anything from a punch in the mouth to a lawsuit.

For example, take Keith Jones. In Spanking Epics’ Schoolmaster’s Revenge, I slapped him in the face. In Trouble in Carson’s Gap, I broke a liquor bottle over his head. In Shadow Lane’s classic Blue Denim, Chelsea Pfeiffer shoved him over the side of a hill, sending him tumbling to the bottom. And in Spoiled Rotten, Tanya Foxx not only slapped him in the face, but she threw a glass filled with water in his face too. Why? Because it was Perrier instead of Evian. On video, these actions serve a purpose. They make the audience root for the top, so that when he finally loses it and lets her have it, he doesn’t look like a brute. But in reality? Come on. It’s just not cool to do things like that.

In the very first spanking story I ever wrote, I had an obnoxious brat provoke a fellow shopper to the point where he spanked her in a parking lot in front of several others, including some cops. Reality? She probably would have been reported to those cops. Or she’d come back to her car and find it keyed. Or worse.

That face-slapping thing? Yeah, women have been slapping men in the face on screen since film began. My advice? Unless it’s scripted, don’t do it. I remember one bottom who posted about how she slapped her boyfriend in the face, and was shocked at how forcefully he responded; he tied her down and walloped her until she blistered. OK, that was a bit much. But so was slapping him in the face.

In other words, know the difference between fantasy scenarios and the real world. “Don’t try this at home.”

Obvious common sense rule #2: Tread very cautiously when it comes to pranks. Again, this is a “know your audience” thing. Some bottoms like to play tricks on their tops, as a way to earn their spankings. Personally? I’m not into pranks. I don’t like to play them, and I don’t like them played on me. But I can see how they would be funny under the right circumstances.

However, was it cool when a particularly moronic woman, several years ago, brought cans of Silly String to a Shadow Lane party and relentlessly sprayed everyone who came within a few feet of her? No. She didn’t choose her audience; she just indiscriminately pranked everyone. Tony Elka said she sprayed so much of that crap on him that his shirt was ruined. This is not appropriate.

And yet, after the fact, a major flame war erupted on the SL bulletin board. Why? Because this woman couldn’t understand for the life of her why people didn’t like what she did, and her comments got nastier and nastier as more people called her on it. Repeat after me, boys and girls — CLUELESS.

Here’s another story from a Shadow Lane party, which I think illustrates both good bratting and bad. Several years ago, a woman brought a squirt gun to the party, and was squirting various tops in the face in the ballroom and in the suites. Finally, a mutual friend of ours got so fed up, he took the gun away from her and would not give it back. Enough was enough already.

He then went off to play with someone privately, and left the water gun with someone else, asking her to watch over it. Well, she didn’t. I came back to the table and found her gone, with the water gun sitting on her chair. I then slipped it into my purse.

When this top (we’ll call him D, and no, it wasn’t Danny) came back, he noticed the woman he’d asked to guard his gun was gone, and wondered aloud where the water gun could have gone. I said nothing, and he mused that it really didn’t matter, as long as it wasn’t back in the hands of the original owner.

Cut to a couple of hours later — D and I were playing in his suite. I was over his lap on the bed, and he was absolutely whaling on me. Slowly, carefully, I pulled the squirt gun out of my purse, put my finger on the trigger, then looked up over my shoulder at him. He caught my eye, paused what he was doing and looked at me.

And I shot him full in the face with the water gun. 🙂

He sputtered, laughed and hollered, “So THAT’S where it went!” Oh yes, I paid for that stunt. But it was classic. And I knew it would be OK with him. Would I have done that to just anyone? Hell, no! I’d be too worried about seriously upsetting/angering someone.

Obvious common sense rule #3: When in doubt, be subtle. Actually, subtlety is a good practice overall. Hammering a top over the head with relentless bratting may very well not get a bottom much more than a hearty dislike or the cold shoulder. I had to learn this one too, folks.

It’s hard for many bottoms (myself included) to ask a top directly to play. I’m not sure why, but it is what it is. So, some of us employ bratting as an indirect way of letting the top know we want to play. That can work, and often does. But it must be done carefully, and yet again, with full awareness of one’s audience. Because some tops simply will not respond to bratting. They avoid it like the plague.

Once at a private party, I had my sights set on a man I really wanted to play with. He seemed interested in me; he smiled at me a lot, watched me as I interacted with others, laughed at my smart-ass remarks. But he absolutely did not nibble at any of the bait I was so obviously dangling. I grew frustrated and escalated my efforts, pushing, pushing. He kept smiling, but remained where he was.

Finally, I got so flummoxed, I snapped, “OK, look. I’ve done everything I can think of except stick my ass in your face. Are we going to play, or what??”

He just grinned at me, and took my hand. “Come with me,” he said. He was thoroughly enjoying how hard I was trying to brat him into playing. OK, lesson learned. The next time I saw this man, it was at a BDSM party where I wasn’t feeling very comfortable, especially when one guy had his wife take off her shirt so he could show off the scars on her breasts and back — which he had inflicted. So I simply walked up to my friend and whispered, “Please, take me away from this and spank me!” And he did.

At the last Shadow Lane party, I asked four different men to play with me. Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t given up bratting. But again, common (or uncommon) sense should dictate when the direct approach is preferable.

I know I’ve used these descriptions before, but for the sake of wrapping up this blog, I’ll use them again. Clever bratting (or teasing, or banter, if you like) should make a top want to spank you, not wring your neck. And subtle, provocative bratting is more of a tickle from a feather, not an anvil slamming down on a top’s foot. Really, is it even necessary to make these statements? Doesn’t it all go without saying?

Apparently not. Because common sense is still too damned uncommon. (my readers excepted, of course!)

Erica vs. the paddles

I think I lost. But I put up a good fight.

I was more than ready for ST this evening. It had been a heavy couple of weeks and I felt like I wanted to lighten up a bit, laugh and play. ST was a bit tentative when he first arrived, but once he sensed that I was up for it, he certainly was as well.

Not sure how this revolting development, er, developed, but he decided that tonight, aside from a warmup with his hand and the Spanking Buddy, our entire scene would be with three wooden paddles. WTF? An all-wood night? What did I do to deserve this??

Nothing, at first. But I guess bombarding him with smartassery might have had something to do with it. It all started when he teasingly asked me if I thought he was being fresh, and I snapped, “No, I think you’re rotten.”

Several swats later, he asked, “Would you care to rephrase that?”

“Uh… you’re day-old?”

“Are you saying I’m stale?”

“Well, that’s better than rotten! Isn’t it?”

Apparently not.

He paused in the paddling, going back to the Spanking Buddy for a bit. I took that opportunity to shove all the paddles off the bed onto the floor. This did not please him.

“You really think that’s a good idea, throwing the toys on the floor?”

“I didn’t throw them, I pushed them.”

Tomato, tomahto.

He had this bizarre notion that the paddles were insulted and that I should apologize to them. Uh… no. Forget it.

Surprise, surprise, he didn’t forget it, and did his damndest to convince me that I should apologize to the paddles, one by one.

“I’m not going to talk to a piece of wood!” I snapped. “I’m not a ventriloquist!”

“These paddles probably have cousins that are ventriloquist’s dummies — you just insulted them too!”

I told him that made absolutely no sense and the only person who would think it did was another top, because tops live on their own planet and have their own special logic. Then I added, “I think you’re a ventriloquist’s dummy.”

Sometimes, I really am stupid. He whaled on me with one of those fuckers lovely paddles until I screeched, “OKOKOKI’MSORRY!” But I wasn’t apologizing to the paddle, I was apologizing to ST for calling him a dummy.

“Are you ready to apologize to the paddle for throwing it on the floor?”

“I didn’t throw it, I pushed it.”

Yes, folks, this went on for quite some time. As you can see from the evidence:

And yet I kept my mouth running. Guess that’s just where I needed to be, tonight. Laughing and being a wise-ass. Of course, I can’t do that with just anyone. But with ST? He knows I love him. 🙂

He never did get me to apologize to the paddles, you know. I flat-out refused. I did, however, apologize to him, and told him he could relay whatever message he chose to his little wooden friends.

But it’s OK. I made peace with the paddles after all. Particularly the one he’d made for me. I am rather fond of that one. (But ssshhhhh, don’t tell him.)

And all was well in my world once again…

Soothing me with lotion, he teased, “How long do I have to paddle you before you learn to behave yourself?”

“You won’t live long enough,” I murmured into the bedspread.

But I hope he never stops trying. 🙂

When Worlds Collide

The vanilla and spanko worlds, that is.

My buddy Secret Spanko, as coincidence would have it, wrote a blog this week about the perils of being a spanko on Facebook. He said the two don’t mix, and I believe I agree with him. In retrospect, I don’t think I would have chosen to join. But that rebellious part of me decided to do so anyway, quite a while ago.

There are many spankos on Facebook; however, they tend to choose one of two paths. 1) They use their real names and have completely vanilla profiles, with family and friends, or 2) They use their scene names and make their pages all about spanking. (And by the way, a lot of them get deleted because of that. I’ve known spankos who have rebuilt their profiles 3-4 times. Why they bother, I don’t know.)

Ever the contrarian, I chose neither. I built a profile with my scene name, but did not make it about spanking. I don’t post any spanking photos, no links to my videos, etc. But I hint at it. Some of the photos I have posted are provocative, such as the shot of my standing in my bedroom wearing the corset ST gave me. I make comments that hint at my proclivities, but never state them directly. If other members post blatant spanking pictures or statements on my timeline, I often delete them (not always, though). And, on my profile under websites, I post my blog link. No one reads profiles anyway, right? Well, hardly anyone.

Why? I dunno. Maybe to mess with people. Maybe to mess with Facebook, which I think is basically a big fat vanilla racket and an incredible time-waster. So what do I do on there? Two things, mostly — I play Scrabble and I post in a group for Dark Shadows fans (a niche group whose members all hated the film).

I mentioned this briefly in Wednesday’s blog, but here’s the more complete story. Last week, I posted a photo of Mom and me on my timeline. The next day, I got a Facebook message from a cousin I’ve seen only twice in my entire life, a beautiful young woman, my mother’s grand-niece, I guess you’d call her. She expressed her condolences, said she’d read my blog and it made her cry. She’d been very fond of my mother.

Well, here it is, I thought. You took a risk, posting your blog link on a vanilla site. Now what?

She mentioned nothing of my blog’s content, asked no questions. But of course, the elephant was in the room. So I wrote back and told her that while I had no shame over my alter ego, I also had chosen not to broadcast it to family members, and she was the first relative (that I knew of, anyway) to find out.

Below, I have pasted excerpts of her reply to me.

Uh oh. I sent my mom and my uncle the link to your blog so they could read your tribute to your mom. My mom actually didn’t say anything, she just commented on your mom and talked about growing up, etc. She doesn’t care. Actually, she said she didn’t know you changed your name…that was it.

However, [her uncle] asked me if you were a porn star! Then he said he hasn’t seen you in like 30 years. He doesn’t care either. If you blogged about something that made you a bad person, or racism, killing people, abuse, etc, they may have something to say, but fetish?….no one cares.

….Regardless, I’m sorry I sent them your site. I didn’t even think twice about it because it was so not a big deal and we’re pretty open people and I knew they wouldn’t care.

Wow.

Can you imagine my mixed reactions to this? On the one hand was “Oh, Christ. So now three relatives know about me?? Ugh!” And on the other was, “They don’t care. It’s not a big deal. I’m the only one making it a big deal.” I am not afraid; what have I to fear, really? But I feel a little creeped out. That is confusing, since I’m not sure why I feel that way. But I guess it’s a confusing situation.

She and I have had a couple of more exchanges since the one from above. Her last message to me, a long one, was all about family dynamics, relationships and memories — kink was not mentioned at all. She now lives back East with her fiancé, and if I ever want to visit, they’d love to have me. She ended by saying, “Families are crazy… but we’d love to connect/re-connect with you!”

Life sure is weird sometimes. I honestly don’t know what to make of this.

I don’t kid myself. I’ve lived all these years being cynical and dismissive of marriage and family, and I know I’m not going to do a 180 and morph into a family person. My experiences growing up were not positive and I have an innate mistrust for most blood relatives, which is kind of a shame, but I can’t help it. However… this lovely young woman seems like someone I’d like to know. I will do my best to remain open. I still don’t like that she, her mother and her uncle know my not-so-secret secret, but it is what it is. Not everyone who learns secrets uses them for malice. We hear of those ugly stories, but, like the evening news, the negative gets too much focus and therefore looms much larger in proportion than it really is.

Anyway… I am feeling a bit more like myself. I am eager to get back into some fun, and definitely some play. And speaking of fun kinky stuff, the beautiful Dana Kane has put up a website for her video productions, here. It is brand-new and a work in progress, so she is eager for feedback and suggestions. Have a look!

Have a great weekend, y’all.

So, where was I?

Figured I should post something, given the volume of correspondence I’ve received in the past couple of days. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to each individual blog comment as I usually do, but I know you understand. Please also know that I appreciate every one of them.

It’s been amazing, the comments and messages. People I know and love, and others whom I don’t know, but they wanted to reach out to me anyway. I guess this business of mourning lost loved ones is all too universal. And as Mija and Indy so eloquently stated in their respective blogs, today’s virtual communities offer new versions of succor. Instead of casseroles, we get emails. In lieu of flowers, we get tweets. We post pictures of our loved ones and share them with the world — I posted a photo of my mother on FetLife and got over 80 comments on it. The personal bubble of mourning expands to include our cyber friends and supporters.

I may not be able to feel real hugs, but I sense them. That means just as much.

ST came over Monday. No playing; he just sat and talked with me for nearly four hours. Such a dear friend he is.

I went to visit my cousin yesterday; I have not seen him in many years. You know, the one who grew up with my mother, and partnered with my dad in early TV writing. He will be 90 next month. It was an interesting couple of hours, as we talked. He shared a lot of detailed memories of both my parents, funny stories, etc. What a fascinating life he’s had. His age is beginning to take its toll; while he could remember so much, other things eluded him. For example, he recalled absolutely nothing of arranging my father’s memorial 14 years ago. And when he poured us both a glass of water from a pitcher, his hand shook badly and he spilled water all over the counter.

I hope he will stick around for a while. He is a distant figure in my life, but a prominent one at the same time. He is the one living soul who knew both my parents from way back when.

Side note: in the past few days, several friends have looked at my mother’s pictures and said, “You look like her.” I’m deeply flattered by this, but baffled. I was always under the impression that I looked just like my father. I don’t have my mother’s coloring, build or features. So yesterday, I asked my cousin, “Who do I look like, Mom or Dad?”

He didn’t even take a beat. With no hesitation, he looked into my face and said, “You look like your father.” Interesting. My mother was lovely. I’m still happy people think I resemble her somewhat.

Today, I got a message on Facebook, from another distant cousin on my mother’s side. It was a lovely note, saying she read my blog and wept. That she never had a grandmother (her grandmother was my mother’s sister, the one who offed herself in 1981), and my mom was the closest thing to a grandmother that she had. She recalled how Mom used to tell her to sit up straight, don’t eat so many potatoes, stay out of the sun, etc. Had to laugh at that. Mom told everyone what to do, not just me, bless her heart!

Then it hit me. Oy. She read my blog. She mentioned nothing of the elephant stampeding through the room. I took a deep breath and wrote back to her. I said she now knew of my alter ego, my not-so-secret secret life. That she was the first family member to know of it, and while I am not ashamed of who I am, I chose not to tell people whom I didn’t think would understand. I hope she will be discreet. If she is, she is. If not… oh well. People will think what they think. I know the truth and what the Erica Scott persona means to me.

I am eager to get back to feeling like myself. I want to catch up with blogs and FetLife posts. I want to snark and write pithy blogs again. And I need to get back on the job hunt.

Incidentally, just for the hell of it, I wrote to the company whose test I took, asking for an explanation of exactly how I failed their test. I didn’t expect to hear back, but lo and behold, I did! A very nice, detailed message, in fact. In the transcription portion of the test (in which I had to listen to a tape of several people talking in thick UK accents and write down every word), they allowed five errors. I made seven. Not in spelling, but I misheard things. A few words here and there, I couldn’t make out at all, no matter how many times I listened to them. They said that their work is UK-intensive and I need to be able to decipher that accent better. But that I did a good job overall and they had no doubt I could work with more American transcription.

What they didn’t know was, I’d never done a transcription job in my life. I just jumped in and tried it. So, that considered, I guess I did pretty well. 🙂

Life goes on. My computer is acting up and probably needs servicing. Always something, no? I’m going to head for the gym now. My mind may still be in a fog, but my body needs care and exercise, food and rest. Basics.

Thank you all, once again. I can’t fully express how much all your communication has meant to me. ♥  You’ve kept me from withdrawing into myself.

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