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 “October, 2012”

A new Cane-iac toy!

Before I begin with tonight’s adventures, I want to take a moment to tell my friends in the Northeast that my heart is with you tonight. I have been hearing all kinds of scary reports and seeing horrible photos, and I know so many of you are without power. May you and yours all come through this nightmare safely.

Also, to everyone who commented or wrote to me privately regarding Friday’s blog, thank you. I really don’t like posting stuff like that, but I was feeling so very down that day and I needed to get it outside of my head. Later, as expected, John cheered me up a great deal and we had a nice weekend. Had a lovely dinner out Saturday night and saw Argo, which I highly recommend. And tonight, Mr. D helped me banish the last of the bad feelings.

I ordered a new OTK Russet Leather Strap from Cane-iac; I’d wanted a new leather toy, and I liked that this was short enough to use OTK. So tonight, Mr. D was the first to use it. Snappy thing, this is! It’s not super thick, so it’s more snap than thud (which I prefer), but it’s quite a wicked snap. Lightweight, but you really feel it. Good coverage, too.

He used this, plus my Cane-iac Spanking Buddy and a couple of other toys, so I was quite squirmy and vocal (well, as vocal as I can be in my apartment).

The good folks at Cane-iac were generous enough to throw in another toy, their brand-new Curse of Dana OTK rubber paddle. Named for our beloved Dana Kane, this implement could be, by their own description on the website, “one of the most harsh and hurtful spanking tools we make.” I confess, I really fear rubber. In some ways, it’s even worse than wood. But I was game to try a few swats with it.


I do not know how anyone can take more than a little of this one, honestly. I admit it, folks. This brings out my inner wimp. It’s soooooooooooo painful. It’s beautifully made and I would recommend it wholeheartedly for those who are into heavy play (VBB, I’m talkin’ to you), but it’s a bit too much for me.

We had our first minor glitch with tonight’s scene — the OTK leather strap wrapped a bit, and I was feeling so emotional already, I burst into tears and sobbed my way through the rest of the scene. Even through the belt, which I loved. Mr. D read the interview I did last week and saw that the belt is my favorite, so he brought a nice, well-worn one tonight. That was another first for us; I really did love it, but by then, I simply could not stop crying. It was such a strange contradiction; despite the tears and the pain, I was half out of my mind with arousal and I couldn’t think straight or communicate properly, so I just wept and shook all over, and hunkered down for more. I could hear Mr. D’s voice, soothing me, but all I could do was nod my head slightly to acknowledge his words.

Guess I had a lot of pent-up emotion to unload. Big surprise there.

But I really did love the belt.

I don’t know how long I cried. I soaked the bedspread under my face, and when Mr. D gathered me close, I wept all over him. I knew my makeup was everywhere and I didn’t care. Funny thing… usually, when I cry, I hide my face, duck my head, look away. I don’t want to be seen. But he says, “Look at me,” and I do.

Later, he asked if I’d like to go out for a bite to eat. But I wasn’t ready to face the outside world yet. Plus, I was so completely sapped of energy, I didn’t want to move. He understood. Pulled the comforter over me and told me to stay right where I was.

After a while, my mood lightened. I felt the brick ease off my chest once again. Amazing what this does for me, every time. It felt good to laugh and be silly, after that torrent of emotion.

We had some fun on FetLife too. I got him to fill out his profile, add some more fetishes and a couple of more pictures. He isn’t posting his face, but ladies, I think you’ll like the torso/chest shot! 😀 

“I know a lot of people have let you down,” he said, “but I’m going to be one of the handful of people who won’t. You need to believe that. I’m going to spank it into you until you believe it.”

I want to believe it, Mr. D. Please be patient with me, give me time. Time is our friend. I already trust you… it just takes me longer to trust that you won’t go away. You know it isn’t personal. It’s just me.

Thank you. And thank you, Cane-iac!

Fuck you, depression

I hate how you never really go away. You just lie dormant, waiting for that vulnerable moment, that chink in the armor. And then you attack, full bore with the negative thoughts, the anger turned inward, the tears and the downward spiral. I hate how I’m always going to have you within me. You’re like herpes of the soul.

It’s been a time of ups and downs, but yesterday, I felt quite fine. And then a stupid, insignificant slight happened, and I guess that was the proverbial straw.

I’m tired, y’all. Of so damn many things, all of which I can’t control.

I’m tired of worrying about everything. It’s exhausting. I’m tired of worrying about money and the cost of everything. About John’s health. About a million things that haven’t happened yet, that may very well not happen, but they might.

I’m so tired of this damned election, I could scream. I’m sick of the ugliness, the anger, the fear-mongering. The incredible ignorance, the racism, the stupidity. Of @#$%ing idiots claiming that babies born of rape are a “gift from God.” Last week, in an effort to allay my anxiety, Mr. D said, “You know, no matter who wins, we still live in the best country in the world.” I’m not so sure. This is a country where people don’t recognize a photo of Albert Einstein, but they sure as hell recognize one of Honey Boo Boo. Where people can’t spell the simplest of words, or use an apostrophe properly.

I’m tired of the social media that I’m so damned addicted to. Every day I see more and more stupid, petty crap, and yet I keep going back. And it doesn’t help that I am constantly bombarded with photos, tweets, comments and reports about the latest spanking party I can’t attend. Last week it was the World Spanking Party, this weekend it’s Crimson Moon. How the @#$% do people afford to go to each and every one of these things?? They cost a fortune! I understand that, for the models, it’s a working weekend and they make up for the cost with shoots and sessions. But what about everyone else? I miss my friends. I miss that camaraderie. I know it’s childish, but when I read all that stuff, I’m back to that insecure kid on the periphery of everything, longing to be on the inside.

And yet, on the flip side, I’m burned out on people. I want to push everyone away and retreat to a quiet island. Which is ridiculous, because of course then I’d start craving attention. But sometimes, aside from John, I really don’t know whom to believe in. People love you… until they don’t. Until someone/something better comes along. Until your humanity shows, your vulnerability, your need. Best not to need anyone at all.

I’m tired of ME. I’m my own worst enemy.

Last weekend, John and I were driving to his sister’s restaurant in the canyon. Parking there can be a challenge, since there are limited spaces, and the locals use them for long-term parking, even though they’re not supposed to. So, when we get there and there’s no place to park, it’s a huge pain, because we have to drive a long way to get to an area where we can park on the street. And because the canyon roads are very narrow, it’s difficult to turn around; especially for me, because I have poor depth perception.

So anyway, no parking spaces, and when I tried to turn around, it took three attempts and cars were coming and I got really frustrated, blurting, “Arrrrgghhh… I hate this place!” John remarked, “You hate too many things.”

He’s right. I do. I’m angry. And because I can’t seem to get a handle on it, I turn it inward. Presto — depression.

This too shall pass. I will go to John’s tonight, have a change of scenery, have some camaderie and comfort. But for now, this is where I am. Sorry, y’all. Can’t entertain, can’t post Chross-worthy fun stuff. It’s just not there.

I have some work to do. Perhaps I should go do it. Hope everyone has a good weekend. Wishing all the best to those who may be in the path of Hurricane Sandy. Sheesh, even Mother Nature is pissed off.

Interview with "Someone’s Gonna Get It"

When Andy from the “Someone’s Gonna Get It” blog wrote to me and requested an interview, my first thought was, “What could I possibly say that I haven’t said 15 times before? People will yawn.” But then I remembered that there are always new readers coming along, and there’s always going to be some little nugget of information I haven’t shared before.

Besides, how could I resist someone who called me lovable and spankable? (click on the red phrase for the interview)

I had sent him a few pictures, also giving him the OK to take some others from my blog if he so desired. He found some I’d completely forgotten about, including a really goofy one from last Christmas. You’ll no doubt recognize some of the others in the photos: Sarah Gregory, Pixie, Richard Windsor, “Tubaman” Paul, and Danny Chrighton.

Thank you very much, Andy. 😀

In other news, my dentist couldn’t find a blessed thing wrong with my tooth. He poked and prodded, took x-rays, blew air in there, but detected nothing. So he sent me home with Sensodyne toothpaste and told me to use that for a month. Weird. Maybe I just aggravated a nerve or something. In any case, I’m greatly relieved. Not only am I terrified of dental work, but I’m rather terrified of how much $$$$$ it costs, too.

And I’m still marked and sore from Monday, thankyouverymuch.

Hope everyone’s having a good week so far.

Two-part blog tonight (Thank you, Bonnie!)

Part One: A Woman’s Place is in Her Binder

Well, this kind of binder, anyway. 🙂

Yes, we had some fun with politics tonight. He teased me by saying that my bottom would need a nice thick binder. I beg your pardon?? I snapped back that if we collected all of his wit and wisdom, it would fit in the world’s thinnest binder.

I knew I’d pay for that. It was worth it. 🙂

Anyway, after the OTK warmup, we proceeded to the bedroom where he decided to “bind” me. What he didn’t count on was my itty-bitty wrists. As he was whaling away, I felt my hands slipping slightly through the restraints. Calculating the slack, I thought, yeah, go for it. So, with one sudden movement, I yanked both hands free. And laughed my freaking head off.

“Oh, that is never, EVER going to happen again,” he growled, pulling my hands back into the restraints and securing them tighter. Not uncomfortably so, though. But I couldn’t move my arms or legs; all I could do was wriggle. I was doing plenty of that by the end. The leather Spanking Buddy, a leather paddle, a wooden paddle, a Lexan paddle, and a riding crop. Ow. Oh, and his hand, which has become rather formidable.

I thought for sure I wasn’t going to weep this time. I felt spacy and euphoric, but I didn’t sense tears. That is, of course, until he started whispering the sweet words to me as he freed my arms and legs. “I’m here for you… I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. I’ll take care of you.” That just makes me go to pieces. He knows it, too.

I didn’t feel sad; only like I was being cleansed from the inside out. He wiped my tears, stroked my hair, held me close. It was a long time before my breathing settled and I could speak coherently. “Welcome back, baby,” he smiled.

We talked and relaxed for a long time, but naturally I started getting mouthy again. “I think you need some more,” he said. “I think you need to go back over my knee.”

“If you insist,” I sighed. “But can I go to the bathroom first?”

He pinned me down. “Now why should I let you go to the bathroom?”

“Uh, ’cause I might pee on you if you don’t?”

He laughed and continued to hold me down, so I reached around… and slapped him on the butt. Oh, man, what a mistake.

“What was THAT?? Who’s the top here? What did you just do??” Um…

“Never mind. Yeah, you’d BETTER go to the bathroom. Because when you come back, I’m really going to let you have it.”

Promise? 🙂

He meant it. All those damned toys all over again (except for the crop), and hard. I started out laughing and still sassing him — he was positioning my legs, moving them up on the bed, then down on the floor, so I suggested that he stop flip-flopping. 😉 OK, that did it.

“Got anything to say now?” he asked. No. Not really. Except “please, please stop.” And “Ow.” He knew I was done when I slumped onto the bed, going limp, my legs collapsing, whereas before they had been rigid and kicking. Slipping out from under me, he bade me to stay there so he could get the camera.

Erica is toast.

Happy toast.

I really, really missed him last week. And no, we did not watch the debate tonight. He recorded it so he could watch it when he went home. I am so over this election. I just want it done with already.

Thank you, Mr. D. I wonder if you have any idea how good you are for me.

And now, Part Two:

Thank You, Bonnie!

Tomorrow, 10/23, is “Bonnie Appreciation Day.” Of course, we all know Bonnie of My Bottom Smarts.

To our Blogging Queen: Thank you for all you have done and continued to do for the Spanko Blogosphere. Years ago, you were the first to link to me on your blog roll, and I’ve loved you ever since. I’m grateful to you, enjoy your posts, and hope you’ll keep blogging forever!

OK. I think it’s time for some chocolate, Jay Leno’s Headlines, and then a sweet slip into a comatose sleep. Tomorrow I’m going to the dentist to see why my tooth is hurting. But tonight, screw it. I’m eating chocolate anyway! 🙂

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/19

It’s quite obvious that I missed my spanking session this week. I am in one of those feisty, don’t-@#$%-with-me moods. So what better time than to write up one of these?

This is from a 22-year-old. I am exactly 2 1/2 times his age; scary. I don’t get it! When I was 22, an “older man” was 30.

hey maybe u can show me a thing or two?

Okie dokie — here are a couple of things. 1. the correct way to spell “u” is y-o-u; 2. here’s one of my favorite sweatshirts. It’s got “Beatlefest ’81” printed on it. Which means I have clothing older than you.

Hello Ma’am,
i hope you are interested in an online slave for a nice talk or try to force me to do things on cam i never did before

(head to desk) All right, young man. Here’s your first order. Read my fucking profile. You know, all the parts where I talk about being a bottom?

u r abad girl and u must have apunishment
come on baby

Well, u r somewhat correct: I AM abad girl and I do need apunishment. But not from amoron.

And really, would it be a CHoS without the requisite age reference?

Lady for 55 you have the best damn ass Ive ever seen. Come live with me and let me stroke and spank that ass for the rest of our lives!!!

Honey, if I came to live with you, the rest of our lives would be very brief indeed. Trust me on this one.

And while we’re on the topic of idiocy — some of you may be watching me engage on FetLife, on one of the most disgusting threads ever. Let me make something clear. I fully realize that some people fetishize body odors. I am not judging that fetish. You want to smell my underarms, you enjoy a woman’s sexual scent? Fine! But I draw the line at being OTK and having a man announce that I smell like cheese. I would: 1) shower for the next three hours; and 2) kick his nose so far into the back of his head, he’d never smell anything again.

Switching gears to end on a pleasing note: Today (if the notification on Facebook is accurate) is Pink’s birthday! Happy birthday, honey! 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

The voice of reason??

Believe it or not, those words have been used to describe me on more than one occasion. Me?? I dunno. On the one hand, I think I’m far too opinionated sometimes to be considered reasonable. But on the other, I detest arguing, and I know that the written media lack nuance, voice inflection and so forth, so I try for the most part to soften my harsher words and be tactful.

Unless, of course, I’m dealing with a complete fucktard. Then I don’t bother. 🙂

Social media can be wonderful. Sites such as Twitter, Facebook, FetLife, etc., keep us in touch with loved ones, connect us with new, like-minded friends and can be extremely validating. However, there are pitfalls. One of them is that rarely does a day go by when I don’t have an overwhelming urge to type, “Oh, shut UP, stupid” to some complete stranger.

I realize that scene preferences vary (understatement of the year, there) and that at times, people state their opinions as if they were facts. Not much can be done about that. But sometimes I see such drivel (yes, the word is drivel, not dribble, for @#$%’s sake), I cringe to think that newbies are reading it. This is when I feel the need to speak up.

On FetLife today, there was a thread where a male top posted about spanking parties. In a nutshell, he loves them, but his sub does not. She doesn’t like the idea of being spanked publicly; she thinks it’s an intimate activity. Perfectly reasonable. Said top stated that he realized he can’t force her to do it (good for him), but he wishes she would change her mind. He asked the forum’s bottoms for their own thoughts/experiences on parties and if their play preferences had changed after going to them.

He got many sensible replies. And then there was this:

Spanking is about humiliation so you should make do it with her legs apart so she has no privacy. If she feels bothered you should set an example by getting naked as well.

Way to be helpful, guy.

First, any time you hear or read anything that starts with “Spanking is about…,” stop listening from that point on. Blanket statements like those tend to pop out of the mouths of idiots. Spanking is about many things, to many different people, and you cannot speak for everyone (nor can you even imply that you’re doing so). Sure, we all have opinions, and yes, for some, spanking is about humiliation. Whenever I’m stating a preference, I try to make damn sure it is indeed stated as my own preference. For example, you’ve all heard me say, “Spanking, for me, is M/F.” For me, that is what computes in my kinky little brain. I’m not saying that’s what it is, period. That would be awfully presumptuous of me.

Second, you’re realllllly treading on dangerous ground when you advocate forcing your bottom to endure public humiliation. Um… limits? Negotiations? Newbies… if you ever come up against a top who wants to so blatantly ignore your fears or limits, listen to that inner voice we’re all blessed with and run, don’t walk.

Yeah, yeah, I know there’s that whole can of worms about D/s and protocols and how much power a dom has over a sub and all that. This question was about spanking parties, which are more generally about fun, not making your sub/bottom utterly miserable. So, to Mr. Humiliation/Spread Her Legs, I say oh, shut UP, jackass.

Thank you; I feel better now. 🙂

On a completely different note: Our friend and fellow blogger Poppy seems to have disappeared. Her blog is gone and so is her Twitter account. Do any of you know what’s going on with her?

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