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, 2015”

Odds and ends

Figured I’d better post something so people didn’t think I’d evaporated. Actually have been sick since Saturday. Really weird illness — slammed into me like a train on Saturday morning. I woke up at John’s and felt funny, but thought I’d be OK once I got up and showered. But I didn’t. And by the time we tried to go to lunch, I felt like I was going to pass out. The glands in my neck were very tender, it hurt to swallow, and I ached all over. I went back to the car and John got us some food to go, and then we went home, where I crawled back into bed. Woke up at 4:30 with a temp of 102, and managed to choke down three bites of food so I could take some Advil. Then I went back to sleep until 8:00.

Poor John. We didn’t go out for dinner or for Sunday brunch, and he basically hung out in his house all weekend while I curled up in a ball in his bed and alternately shivered and sweat. I felt just horrible, knowing I was exposing him to something or another. If I’d gotten these symptoms just a day earlier, I would have stayed home. But he insisted that I stay. He was very sweet. On Sunday morning, I needed to take Advil for the fever and pain, but I can’t take that on an empty stomach. However, I couldn’t stand to eat anything. He was going out to get his groceries, so I asked him to please buy me some milk. He brought home a quart of nonfat, plus a roll with nuts and raisins that he knew I liked. I was able to eat that and have a glass of milk, and take the meds. It’s the little things. 🙂

Yesterday, back home, I still had a fever and swollen glands, so I decided to go to my HMO to rule out a bacterial infection. Turns out it’s viral, so no antibiotics. I just have to wait it out. So I’m home, taking it easy. Today is the first day I’m fever-free, so I must be getting better.

So anyway, while all this nonsense was happening, history was being made. I am very, very proud of our Supreme Court. Social media have certainly been interesting the past few days; I’ve seen a lot of heartening support, and a fair amount of sad and despicable dissent as well. As I mentioned in a Facebook post, if I see the phrase “The Bible wrote of Adam and Eve, not Adam and STEVE,” I’m going to projectile vomit. And don’t think I won’t. I came close to it a couple of times this past weekend. But, naysayers and haters aside, I’m happy for our new equality under the law. As for the holy rollers who threatened to set themselves on fire in protest, all I can say is “Goody! S’mores for everyone!”

In other news, a video I shot for Sarah Gregory is now available. It’s called “The Naughty Wife” and you can read about it here. I giggled at the first picture, where I come in see that my “hubby” John Osborne has spread implements all over the bed, because I remembered my reaction was to blurt, “What the fuck is all this??”

However, may I grumble just a bit? I promise I’ll (try to) keep it brief. One of the pictures from this video has been making the Tumblr rounds, and what’s the caption? “Mature wife spanking by husband at Sarah Gregory Spanking.” Really? Really?? You just had to throw that “m” word in there, huh? You couldn’t just say “naughty wife” or “misbehaving wife.” Also… I looked at a bunch of the other video stills. In every one I saw, the performers were identified by name. Why do John O. and I just get the generic “mature wife” and “husband”? What are we, chopped liver?

OK, done grumbling.

Asshats. All right, all right, now I’m done.

And finally, I’d like to give a shout-out to a newly published spanking erotica book. The author, Alexis Alvarez, contacted me originally as a blog fan, and then she asked if I would be willing to copy-edit a few short stories for her, which I did. Then she approached me with her first full-length novel, Return. She’d already had it worked on by a content editor, but she wanted a final copy-edit/proofread on it. This was a fun job! I really enjoyed her book as I worked on it; it’s a hot story, it’s clever and original, and her heroine Ava is no pushover — she’s feisty, she can be a bit cranky, and she’s full of fire and passion. Oh, and the male protagonist ain’t bad either. Anyway, if you’d like to add a well written and yummy story to your BDSM erotica collection, check it out here. She has listed me as the editor, which I think was incredibly generous of her. Because she’s not affiliated with any of the kink book publishers (yet!), I thought a little extra publicity was in order. 🙂

I think I’m caught up now. I’ve managed to sit upright for a few hours now, but now I’m feeling the need to be horizontal once again. Later.

S & M

Spanking & Modeling, that is! We decided to do a bunch of both yesterday, to break in Steve’s fancy new camera, and see what we could come up with.

My apartment is so full of stuff, and none of the walls are blank, so Steve rigged up one of my sheets and we made do with that. We then tried to emulate some poses we saw online. Some of them fell flat — I simply can’t contort my body the way some of those women do. But I think this one came out kinda cool:


I really tried to do this one, since we both found it so incredibly sexy:


Suffice it to say, I couldn’t quite do it. I needed to push my hips forward and slouch backward more. Oh well.


So we moved to the bed. I think we had better success there.


We hadn’t played yet, but this is sort of an after picture:


And because I love messing with black and white:


But enough of that. All this posing and wrangling me into position got both of us primed and ready for play, and we had one hell of a session. Whereas last week had been about catharsis and release, this one was purely about fun and intensity.

“Don’t you dare move!” he commanded, when I squirmed too much. Oh, fine. Let him try not moving if someone was smacking the back of his thigh.

“You moved! I asked you not to move!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said, ‘Don’t you dare move.’ That’s not asking. That’s telling.”

I thought I made a good point. Apparently, he didn’t.

The implement portion was a push, with several harsh ones — the spoon, the licking stick and the thicker cane. But I drank it in, despite my mind screaming that I couldn’t.

He peeled my stockings off so he had better access to my thighs, the butthead. X marks the spot!


And finally, I got to rest.


(Notice the Cane-iac tag on the implement off to the side. Always happy to give them a shout-out!)

This visit has to last a while, since Steve is going on one of his Harley road trips and will be gone next week. (sigh) So I’m glad we wrung out as much action as we could in a few short hours!

Next month, Steve will have been my top for three years. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I’m so grateful he’s in my life. And that, as he tells me nearly every time we meet, he’s not going anywhere. 🙂

A few quick comments about comments

I’ve recently encountered some confusion and questions about how to post comments to this blog. I agree, it’s not quite as obvious as it was on Blogger.

If you look at any blog entry, check out the top left-hand side, and you’ll see a black square-ish word balloon directly under the date. Click on that, and it will take you to the area where you can write out and post a comment. Easy once you know it, but not intuitive.

Also, if you write a comment to any blog post, it is publicly posted. I don’t have “approve comments first” set up. Please be aware of this; I recently had someone who thought they were sending me private correspondence post all their private information directly into a blog comment! Not something that anyone wants happening. I’ve fixed the settings so that anonymous comments are accepted, so you don’t even have to post a name on a comment if you don’t wish to.

Finally, if you look at the top of my blog, you’ll see that familiar shot of me reclining on the bed, and a Welcome post. I know it says “Leave a comment” at the bottom of that post, but please don’t. The only way I could include that photo on this new blog was to include it into a “sticky” post that would always remain at the top. But it’s not meant for comments, just a welcome entry. However, please do leave comments on any other post! 🙂

Hope this clears up any confusion.

EDIT, 6/24: Thanks to Hermione, I have figured out how to disable comments on the “Welcome” page. So please disregard the last paragraph, as that’s been handled. 🙂

OT: The official “before and after” photos

I refer to them as “official” because they are the photos my surgeon took, for his records and for his website. He took several pictures before the procedure, and then at five months, he took the same photos. I just accessed them recently and was able to download them.

These are no-frills shots — no makeup, no special lighting, no effects. And he specifically asked for no smiling, not even the hint of one. I haven’t done anything on my own to these pictures. This is ME, kids. Well, this next one was me:

presurgery (1)

There is no escaping the saggy neck, the droopy mouth, the beginning of jowls. I was feeling perfectly fine when this was taken, but I look tired and pissed off.

And now, the same pose, five months later. (It’s been eight months now, so I’ve healed even more, but this will give you some idea.)

postsurgery (2)

As you can see, I had him remove the mole in the middle of my left cheek, but not the one under my eye. Sorry, Mom. That one stays.

So, was it worth the cost, the pain, the swelling, the bleeding, the numbness, the headaches, the paralyzed eyebrow, the temporary hair loss, and all that other nastiness? You betcha. Because now I look a little more like how I feel. I don’t have that shock anymore — “Who the hell is that old bag and what did she do to my face?? — when I look in the mirror.

John, bless his heart, says I look thirty. No, honey. I do not look thirty. Love is blind, as they say. But at this stage of life, I’ll happily take forty, forty-five. 🙂

Busy weekend ahead, and I still have a lot of work to finish, so I’m outta here. Have a great weekend, y’all.

The emotional tsunami

That’s how it feels sometimes, when Steve and I have what we think is going to be play, and he taps into a well of feelings. I’ll never quite understand the phenomenon about how feeling pain releases pain (I know, it’s not all about the pain), but whatever it is, I am grateful for it.

It had been a couple of weeks — last week, my apartment was crawling with plumbers and painters, and Steve was busy with work stuff, so we had to skip it. I felt OK when he arrived, not aware that I had any sort of stuff going on — no more than usual, anyway.

The OTK/hand portion startled me in that it felt extra painful; perhaps it was the two-week break. But I found myself nearly hyperventilating and Steve stopped so that I could take some deep breaths and regulate my heartbeat. Soon, I got into my groove and greedily absorbed everything he doled out. His hand has gotten so strong over the past nearly three years! I remember when we first started, he had to keep stopping, and he kept trying to use his other hand (for which I gave him a bunch of noise). Not so now.

Not sure what happened. We were taking our customary break, and cuddling on the couch before we moved onto implements. He was complimenting me, my body, and I was pooh-poohing his words, denying them. I know better than this. I know that’s a counterproductive thing to do. But I couldn’t seem to help it. I’ve been in kind of an insecure mode (what else is new!!), and not feeling all that great about myself. His lovely words had to be about someone else; they couldn’t possibly be about me.

“You know, if I close my eyes, and run my hands over any part of you” (he stopped to brush my arm, my leg, the side of my waist, and then my butt) “there’s no way I could tell how old you are. All I feel is tone and muscle. You feel like a 20-year-old.”

To this, I snorted, “Riiiiiight. Then open your eyes and behold the wrinkles, the sags, the age spots… you don’t see any of this crap on a 20-year-old!” I plucked at the loose skin on my arm, pointed to the brown spots splattered all over my forearms.

This did not sit well with Steve at all. “I’m going to end this bull@#$% right now, ” he announced in his toppy voice. “Go get the spoon. I think we need some of that today.” (What’s this “we” business?)

In my bedroom, he put me over the pillows, and didn’t even warm me back up with his hand, just went right into it with the wooden spoon, which hurts like a mofo. At first it was over my leggings, but as soon as those came down, my skimpy thong afforded no protection whatsoever, and that spoon bit and stung and set mini-fires everywhere it struck.

“You are beautiful, inside and out,” Steve said calmly. “I want to hear you say it.”

I couldn’t say it. I started crying instead. He didn’t stop.

“Come on, I want to hear you say it. This won’t stop until you do.”

Because I couldn’t stand it, I sobbed, “I’m beautiful!” but then quickly added, “But I don’t believe it. You can make me say it, but you can’t make me believe it!”

“We’ll work on the believing,” he said, lightening up a little, but still not stopping. “For now, I just want you to practice saying it.”

He took a quick break to rub my back and stroke my hair, to get me a tissue, and then started again. “Do you believe that I believe it?” he asked me. “Yes,” I wept.

“Would I lie to you about that? Would I be your top if I weren’t attracted to you? If I didn’t think you were a wonderful person?”

“No.” But by now, the dam had broken. Now, all the feelings came rushing down like an avalanche. It’s a weird thing; I don’t know if everyone experiences this, or just depressives. But when I am upset about one thing, suddenly everything seems dark. I have this exaggerated sense of everything going wrong, everything being hopeless. It doesn’t matter what sets it off, at that point. I’m temporarily lost. My perspective is turned on its head.

I don’t remember when he stopped, or when he gathered me into his arms. I cried and cried and cried. Every hurt, every loss, every worry, all the stuff with John, issues with friends, with finances, you name it, was swirling around me in this great mass, like a tsunami, and Steve felt like a massive thick tree in the middle of it all, so I clung to him for dear life. His shirt was balled up in my fists and I couldn’t get close enough — I just wanted to climb inside his skin and be safe.

He murmured to me all along. “You’re OK, let it out, I’m here.” “I’ll take care of you.” At one point, for reasons I didn’t quite understand, he said, “Don’t ever walk away from me. Don’t ever leave. You understand?”

“I don’t leave!” I blurted. “Everyone leaves ME!” Ugh. I hate it how, even after all these years, all the therapy, all the work I’ve done, I still have those fucking rejection issues. “Why isn’t it getting better?” I wept into his shirt. “When is it going to get better?” I didn’t even know what “it” was, right then. He didn’t either. He just held me and said, “It will.” What else could he say, really?

It took a long time for me to stop crying. I’d wind down, then start up again. I went through a lot of tissues, wadding them into one soggy ball after the other. Finally, the tears tapered off, and I became aware of the fierce stinging and soreness. I reached down to rub. My skin felt welted.

“Does it hurt?” Steve asked.


“Good. It’s supposed to.”


He had to go back to work, but he stayed with me for about an hour afterward, hour and a half. I felt drained and tired, but a lot more at peace. We took no pictures, no video, this time. It was too personal. At times like this, I can’t help but remember Amber Pixie Wells’s words: “Tears are hot. Snot is not.” Steve thinks my swollen eyes and red drippy nose are beautiful. I think he’s insane. I guess some things will never change.

After he left, I so wanted to take a nap, but had to get back to my own work. The whole responsible adult thing, you know. It was a little challenging, reading and copy editing with eyes nearly swollen shut, but I managed. Later when I showered, I checked myself out in the mirror. I thought for sure I’d be marked. Nope. Aside from a couple of faint pink circles, the canvas was clean once again. Amazing.

Onward with the week. I have lots of work (yay!), so at least that will keep me out of trouble. I did take a break today to get my hair cut and colored, and my first pedi in months (my feet were a disgrace), so I feel sorta pretty. 🙂 John is starting to walk to work, which is 1 1/2 miles, so he’s walking three miles a day. He’s very tired, but he’s just short of three months out of surgery, so that is to be expected. I worry because he’s so very thin, and he’s lost all his muscle — he’s a shadow of his former robust self. His posture is stooped; I keep (gently) bugging him to stand up straight. And it’s still a struggle regulating his blood-thinner levels, his fluid levels, his heart rate, his blood pressure. But I guess we have to give that time.

Back to work for me. Happy Hump Day.

Some industry news: Spanking Court and Sternwood Academy return!

Some of you who have been with me for a while may remember, back in 2011, I was shooting for a site known as Spanking Court. SC, and its sister site, Sternwood Academy (about a naughty girls’ school) were the brainchild of Cali Katarina, who along with her Dom and partner, ran Alpine Sierra Studios.

Spanking Court was wonderful fun. Dana Kane and Michael Donovan were the Bailiff and Court Disciplinarian, respectively, there was a strict judge, and the court saw many defendants during its time, including Snow Mercy, Nikki Rouge, Samantha Grace, Alex Reynolds, Ten Amorette, Christy Cutie, Maddy Marks, and lots more. I was lucky enough to do a six-episode story arc, which started out kind of different from the rest of the “cases”: I was there to try a sort of physical/psychological experiment, with court-assigned spanking as treatment for depression. However, I quickly ran afoul of the Court Disciplinarian; I was ticked off by his coldly professional demeanor (and his insistence on calling me “ma’am”), and my “treatment” morphed into a clash of wills where I did my best to get his goat. Of course, everything I said and did ended up backfiring on me. But in my final appearance, which was all about resolution and closure, I got to have the last word, in a most unexpected way. 🙂

Me, smirking, as usual:


When Alpine Sierra Studios ceased production a couple of years ago, the massive collection of SC and Sternwood videos were no longer available for purchase. Which I thought was a terrible shame and a waste — they’d put in so much work, so much talent had been involved, and there was a lot of fresh, creative content. I’d had the time of my life working with these people and I hated the fact that the evidence of those good times had disappeared.

Until now! The entire library of Spanking Court and Sternwood Academy videos is being restored and reissued, by none other than Dana Kane and Michael Donovan, and distributed through both their Clips4Sale stores. There is a lot of material and they are putting up a few clips at a time, so it will be a while before the collection is complete once again. But in time, it will all be there. I’m so jazzed about this! So happy to see all this good work available once again.

These videos were the real deal, with authentic costumes, sets, etc. To read more about them and get links to the sites where you can buy them, check out this post on Dana’s blog.

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

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