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.

Wet Tuesday

No, it didn’t rain today. It was all about tears. Mine. So damn many of them.

I was crying before he ever laid a finger on me. I teared up when he told me he’d have to leave early. I cried when he said that he and John are two of the luckiest men ever. (I would have disagreed, but he has sort of a thing about my arguing with him.) And during warm-up, a light slap to my thigh to keep my legs still sent the waterworks into overdrive.

Why? Meh. Stuff. Life. Lack of balance; too much stress and not enough fun. The holidays and all the pre-fab joy I’m supposed to be feeling, which I am not. Lack of work, but no lack of bills. Today, I felt bleak and needy.

My top took care of me. Lovingly, compassionately, firmly.

Still such a strange paradox that the inflicting of pain would bring me to some semblance of peace. But of course, as we all know, it wasn’t just the pain. If that were the case, I’d have been in a state of bliss during all those root canal appointments. It was the way it was delivered.

He pushed. Just a little. He knew when to go forward and when to pause. He knew when to remind me to breathe, slowly and deeply. He read my body’s signals, heeded the timbre of my voice when I gasped please.Β 

Not to worry. The redness on my lower legs was temporary and left no lasting marks or pain. He knows to keep those few swats well measured.

There wasn’t banter today. I wasn’t up for it; I barely spoke. All I did was feel, and make sounds.Β 

My tolerance was not high. Perhaps it was the mood, or the two-week break. Who knows. It took relatively little to break through today, to dissolve the hard edges and get to the mushy center.

Once we were done and I was collapsed onto the ottoman, then Steve took a moment to be playful. (Yes, I am posting this photo with his complete permission.)

Ouch. Freaking cannibal. But you can see he has very white teeth. I tell him he should be in a toothpaste commercial.

Aftercare was lengthy. I needed to be held, to be enveloped completely. I wanted to burrow in his arms and crawl into his skin. I trembled and my breath hitched. He held me close, stroked my hair, comforted me. Allowed me to feed on his strength.

No video today. And in every photo he took, I buried my face. I didn’t want to be seen. After he left, I felt a little stronger, so I experimented with facial selfies. I didn’t like how they looked overall, but I think my eyes speak volumes in this cropped photo.

This afternoon, I bundled up in a comforter, made chamomile tea and watched a couple of episodes of Downton Abbey. I talked with John and he cheered me with a report of his office’s pre-Christmas lunch, made me giggle with silly stories. And tonight, I will sleep, deeply.

How’s this for unfair — Steve has been diagnosed with that chronic dry-eye that you hear about in those Restasis commercials, and he has to put drops in his eyes every day to create tears. I told him I’d been more than happy to give him a whole bunch of mine, since I’m sick to death of the damn things. But I guess it doesn’t work that way.

It’s OK to need, to have sad times. They will pass. I’m just grateful I don’t have to deal with them in complete isolation, as I did in younger days. Now, I have a network. Now, I have healthy outlets, and a most unusual but effective form of release. And most important, now, I have so much love.

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15 thoughts on “Wet Tuesday

  1. Sorry you had a gloomy day but your bottom looks well spanked. Maybe the week will improve.


  2. sixofthebest on said:

    Erica, on the subject of tears. Charles Dickens wrote. “We need never to be ashamed of our tears”. Voltaire wrote. “Tears are the silent language of grief”. I write “Tears can be shed in love for someone, or in grief over a loss of some one dear”.


  3. Michael — thanks. I'm hoping it will.

    Six — I'm not ashamed of them, really. I just get tired of them sometimes.


  4. A beautiful chapter.


  5. Mace — thank you. πŸ™‚


  6. Erica, this is beautiful. Just beautiful.
    Life is having its proper course. You are not just floating with it, but more: you are taking part.


  7. Hi Erica — I hear you about the tears part, I am so sick of them myself too 😦 I am so glad that Steve, Understands you so well πŸ™‚ I agree that he should be in a toothpaste commercial.His teeth are the whitest I have ever seen LOL. I am happy that you have so much Love πŸ™‚ Lot's of people Love you,I am one of them.You are very easy to Love. Hugs from naughty girl Jade


  8. MrJ — thanks. I'm trying.

    Jade — wish you could see his smile. πŸ™‚


  9. chrossed!
    Congratulations – well deserved!


  10. Hi Erica, bad girls should be spanked but should their bottoms be bit too. You must have naughty!


  11. Anonymous on said:

    I remember “Bum Biters” being a book mentioned in a Marty Feldman sketch many years ago about an undecided man in a sex shop.


  12. MrJ — thanks!

    Danny — I usually am.

    John — that sounds like something he would have done. πŸ™‚


  13. All in all….sounds heavenly, and yes outlets are what keeps us healthy.


  14. Because I'm punctilious, and probably you are too: I think you meant “timbre”, not “timber”.


  15. Fricabrac — I did indeed, and thank you.


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