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 “September, 2014”

Quote of the day

From John, yesterday, while we were having a semi-argument (more of a debate, really). I love the man to bits, but he’s an engineer — his thinking is very linear. Black or white, one polarity or the other, nothing in between. I told him as much, which of course didn’t sit well. But after a while, we agreed to disagree, somewhat. (What were we debating? The McCarthy era, with the HUAC blacklists. Don’t ask why.)

“Don’t think of this as being black or white,” he said as we hugged. “Think of it as more like 50 shades of I’m right and you’re wrong.”

No jury would convict me. :-Þ

Post birthday spanking pic

This one’s for Secret Spanko, who observed that I was too busy having fun with my birthday spanking to actually take a picture of it. So here’s the next best thing: a photo from a day later!

After a nice long hand spanking, Steve’s final smack was a shocker — a single slap to my right upper thigh. I guess it was “one to grown on,” or something… it was just one strike, but it made me screech his name nonetheless. Naturally, it marked! So here I am on the following night — notice that my bottom is absolutely pristine, no sign of the previous day’s activity. My thigh, however, is a different story.

And in this week’s spanking startle: Yesterday, I was walking out of the locker room at the gym, and I distinctly heard the sound of rhythmic slapping. Naturally, my ears perked up, and my mind conjured up visions of strict personal trainers with slacker clients. I went down the hall, the slap-slap-slap sound getting louder, and then I saw it…

A guy was jumping rope, and that sound was the rope hitting the mat. 

Oh well.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Birthday fun

So, another one has come and gone. But before I get back to reality (work, gym), time for my usual recap.

Last Saturday, John took me to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, where I happily enjoyed a big plate of pasta. And yes, I did get 58 (one to grow on) swats. He started with that damn hairbrush I hate so much, but then switched to his hand for a while, which I love. The final eight, however, were back to the brush — @#$%&!

Monday morning (the actual birthdate) started out beautifully. I got a surprise delivery of flowers from John, and that delicious birthday toon from Wolfie (see here). I went to the gym to work out and then came home to get ready for my birthday dinner and spanking from Steve. But then he called… he couldn’t make it. Work issues, unavoidable and understandable. It still sucked, though. 

The day was cheered somewhat by all the lovely messages I got on FetLife and Facebook from various friends, which kept me smiling throughout the afternoon. Then John called that evening. He felt so bad for me because my birthday plans had been cancelled, he got kind of angry on my behalf, and was very critical of Steve, which didn’t help at all. I ended up bawling and he ended up apologizing, but after that, I was ready to say “fuck birthdays,” end the day and be done with it.

However, it all turned around the next day (yesterday).

First, Steve showed up at noon with flowers, a cake, and presents. He insisted on giving me a massage, seeing how tense I was, and after a thorough going-over on my back, arms, legs and feet, I felt much more relaxed. I was feeling so blah, I didn’t think I’d be up for any sort of play, but then I slowly came around, and he gave me a nice spanking (in my birthday suit, Secret Spanko!). 

The cake was gorgeous — I didn’t want to have a slice just then because I was going out for dinner in a couple of hours, so Steve cut a ginormous piece out of it and I had a couple of bites of that. Oh, and ate those two strawberries. 🙂

After he left, I got ready to go meet Alex and SpankCake for dinner. I had chosen my favorite little coffeehouse; we met there at 6:00, found a nice big table in the corner of the patio, and ordered light dinners so we could have room for cake! German chocolate cake, of course, plus a slice of lemon tart, because Alex loves fruit desserts and I wanted everyone to have what they liked.

And they brought me presents, too! Alex gave me a box of Godiva chocolates (if John behaves himself, I may let him have one or two), and a very sweet, perfect card about friends and dessert. SC gave me a scented soap and some yummy smelling body cream, and then… get this… a stuffed Grumpy Cat! (Yes, if I were a stuffed animal, I’d be Grumpy Cat.)

(SC’s suggested caption): Me: Smile! Cat: No.

She also made a card for me, with my photo and a Big Bang Theory theme. 


We talked and laughed for nearly five hours, and I was too wound up to sleep right away last night, so today I slept in until 11:00. Indulgence time is over. Now, must work. And after all that cake, must go to gym.

I am feeling very much loved and squidgy and mushy right now. 🙂

I love you, Dave Wolfe! :-)

And I love my 2014 birthday toon!

OK, some of my younger readers might not get the references to Peabody and Sherman and their Wayback Machine (they are from the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoons), or Herman’s Hermits (a 1960s British Invasion band, one of the many who showed up after you-know-who), but you all know the Beatles! 

Wolfie always sends me to the coolest places — a few years ago, he sent me back into the world of Dark Shadows. Thank you, dear and talented friend, for starting my official birthday day with a big smile. ♥

Gettin’ my spank on soon, yeah, yeah, yeah!

Why I love Jillian Keenan

For many reasons, but to name a couple: Because she is a mainstream writer who has the bravery to speak for us kinky folk. Because her latest writing is a brilliant piece for Slate entitled Spanking is Great for Sex, Which is Why it’s Grotesque for Parenting.

In the off chance that you’re not familiar with Ms. Keenan, she is a journalist who outed herself as a spanko in the New York Times, here. I don’t say this about too many people, but she is one of my heroes. We follow each other on Twitter, and she once tweeted to me that if I’m ever in New York, we should hang out. Now that was a compliment indeed.

I am probably not the first spanko blogger today to call attention to her latest piece, nor will I be the last. But I don’t care; I just want to spread the word. Ms. Keenan has voiced an opinion that I have thought for years, have hinted at in my writings, but never articulated so bluntly and perfectly as she did.

Spanking children is grotesque. It’s wrong on just about every level I can think of. What we do as adults is consensual, plain and simple. A child doesn’t get to consent. That in itself is enough of a reason to not do it, but when you throw in the physiological and sexual ramifications, as Ms. Keenan does, then you really have a case against it. So let’s review: spanking causes a child fear, physical and emotional pain (it’s fucking humiliating), and it throws in a confusing sexual connotation too? It’s outlawed in certain states and in Sweden. Why is this ban not worldwide already?

Ms. Keenan is very brave. She is already getting major backlash for this article — from enraged parents, from the fundamentalists, from the anti-kinks, and from the just plain stupid. Don’t bother reading the comments attached to her piece, unless you want your head to explode. She has been tweeting a random assortment of negative messages she’s received, gems such as:

“I was spanked and I turned out fine!”

“Football players tap butts!”

“Spankings are about power, not sexuality.”

“Foot rubs can be sexual!” (WTF??)

“People spank butts because they’re conveniently padded!”

And my favorite, which looks like one of my CHoS entries:

“GOD! You think SPANKING is SEXUAL??? U r SICKKK! You NEED TO be LOCKET up!!!”


But for every negative comment she receives, for all the hate mail and condemnation, I know she will in turn reap much praise, and deservedly so.

Brava, Jillian Keenan. Thank you for being our voice once again. 

"Pre"-birthday spanking??

Yup. Yesterday was one week before the fact, and Steve announced our scene was my pre-birthday spanking. WTF? Wouldn’t that work for all the weeks prior? In fact, why not just start with the week after my birthday and say it’s pre for the birthday in 2015?? rolling eyes

Believe me, I know it’s all BS. It’s just a PREfabricated excuse for spanking.

He said it was to prepare me for the amount of swats next week. I said thanks a lot for reminding me of the high number. (sigh)

It was a lot of fun, though. I wore my (almost, only worn once) new panties:

He took two videos of our scene in the bedroom, but of course, Blogger is still being buggy and won’t let me post either of them. I thought by now they might have fixed things, but that was clearly wishful on my part! Meh. We had some fun banter and he delighted in messing with my head. 

Part of his ritual is that when he’s done, he pulls my panties back up. So when he did so yesterday, I went “Ooh” in surprise, since I didn’t think we were anywhere near finished. “Oh, you think we’re done? Is that what that ‘ooh’ was about?” he crowed. And he continued with that damned wooden paddle.

“But, but…” I sputtered. “When you pull my panties back up, we’re done! That’s how you always do it!”

“Really?” he said. “Is this a rule? I don’t remember seeing that in the manual!”

Argh. Apparently, changing the game is “the top’s prerogative.” Of course, it was this bottom’s prerogative to stick my tongue out at him and tell him to [fornicate] off.

But he was sweet, too. Ended the scene by stroking my hair and saying he’d be here always — for every birthday, for every anniversary, whenever I needed him. He was my top for life. He even said it on video, so I could keep it and replay it and remember.

And you all know how much that means to me. 

I never thought I’d do this, but I changed my date of birth on FetLife. No, not to make myself younger — I changed it to September 22, 1925, so now I am listed as 88F (next week it will be 89F). Screw it… I’m tired of the “for your age” cracks. Most people know how old I really am anyway, but now it won’t be readily apparent every time someone looks at my profile. 

Off to the gym with me, which means I have to go (gasp) outside. Today is supposed to be the last really bad day of this freaking heat wave — 109 Sunday, 104 yesterday, 101 today, 98 tomorrow, then back into the 80s by Thursday. Hallelujah. Southern California — welcome to Life in Hell! 

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