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 “November, 2015”

Uh oh, look out…


Yup. Thanksgiving has come and gone, and now we have a full month of ho-ho-horsesh*t to look forward to. And the Grinch has arrived! Damn, I hope Steve will be available. I will need him. Hell, everyone around me will need him too. 😀

My Thanksgiving was exactly what I wanted. It was cold and cloudy outside, and I was cozy and warm inside, doing some work, drinking hot cider, binge-watching Masters of Sex, and savoring a whole mini pumpkin pie with Cool Whip. Today, I’m ready to rejoin the living, but no Black Friday shopping for me. I’d rather have root canal. I don’t care if they were giving the stuff away — just the thought of a mall parking lot gives me a rash.

Anyway… all snarking aside, I hope my friends and chosen family had a good holiday, if you celebrate it. And don’t forget, it’s not too late to cast your nominations for the Spanking Awards!

Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

Thanksgiving Eve

Or, as I call it, Wednesday. I have no plans tomorrow. Don’t worry; it’s completely my choice. When my mother was alive (and in her right mind), TG was my favorite holiday, but those days are past. And I’d rather not do something or another that’s obligatory, just because the calendar dictates it. I can ponder upon what I’m grateful for on my own, without stuffing myself into oblivion. Fortunately, John understands and isn’t pushing any agenda. Ever since the inheritance debacle with his sisters last year after his mother passed, he knows I am done with his family, save for his brother and sister-in-law. After years and years of going to their various gatherings, of constant forced interaction with people I really don’t like, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted. So, there’s a grateful right there.

Being part of a couple is a lovely thing. But holy crap, the stuff you have to do sometimes…

Anyway, enough of that. Today I’m feeling fairly peaceful, thanks to a wonderfully ouch-y visit from Steve yesterday, and then dinner with SpankCake last night. Oh, and I have work, so I can be quite functional during my quiet time. All good.

Yesterday, Steve provided quite the pre-Thanksgiving smorgasbord; he used no less than six implements, two of them wood. @#$%!! He was so proud of himself that he’d remembered to bring his camera and had the battery in there and charged (he’s been known to leave the battery out, or to find out it’s completely dead when we’re ready to use it). So, as I set up the pillows on the bed, he was fumbling with the camera, trying to take a couple of test shots, and it wouldn’t work. “What’s wrong with this thing??” he fumed. It’s still a relatively new camera, and it’s got a lot of whistles and bells on it, which he hasn’t figured out, so when something doesn’t work, he doesn’t always know what the problem is. “You know, this camera is too sophisticated for me, I think,” he grumbled, and I agreed. Then he fumbled some more, and made a wry face.

Catching my eye, he then proceeded to remove the lens cap.

I couldn’t help it; I fell on the bed laughing. “OK, that was lame,” he admitted. But he still gave me a thigh swat for laughing at him. Meanie.

Oh, and along with all the implements, he had a Sharpie.


(You can faintly see that lone swat on my left thigh.)

It had been a while since we’d used wood. And you know, I didn’t miss it one bit. The combination of the solid thuds and stinging snaps had me reeling. I had to make a concentrated effort to relax; he noticed I was flinching, and called me on it. It was purely involuntary, but once I was aware of it, I was able to stop. Amazing how much easier it is to take when I relax into it and accept it.

(Sounds a little like life, no?)

Anyway… when we were done, I may have said something along the lines of, “Let’s do something different with the after-picture this time.” By different, I was thinking perhaps another room, position, etc. Steve, of course, had other ideas.

So, this happened.


Yes, the hallway of my apartment building again. I said no at first. But Steve walked up and the down the hall, made sure no one was approaching, and it was really quick. He counted down, I jumped out and quickly took position, he snapped a few shots and I dashed back inside. Bing bang boom.

A bit of exhibitionism may be one of my kinks, but I swear it gives Steve more pleasure and excitement than it does me! He was so jazzed afterward, hugging me and telling me how awesome I was. Meanwhile, my heart was pounding so hard, I thought I was having a coronary episode. Still, I was pleased with myself. 1. I went outside my comfort zone, and 2. I can’t help it; I like getting away with naughty stuff. 😀

Interesting delayed reaction, though. Once we were in aftercare mode and he was holding me close, out of nowhere I began to cry. He doesn’t even question it anymore, or try to fix it. He just tightens his arms around me and lets me release whatever is going on. As the kids say, sometimes I simply have too many feels.

And what better way to top off a lovely spanky day than to have dinner with one of my besties, share chocolate cake and spend hours catching up? We missed Alex, of course, who is out of town for the holiday. But the three of us will hang out when she’s back.

So. Tomorrow, my American friends, whatever you’re doing on Thanksgiving, I hope it’s happy. May you have good food, good company, and if your blood family blows, that you have chosen family to be with. Life really is too short to spend time with people who suck said life out of you.

And for my non-American friends, may your Thursday be exceptionally pleasant. 🙂


So it’s come to this…

I have nothing to say. Work is slow, life is slow, nothing exciting coming up, slogging through holiday sludge for the next few weeks. Complete writer’s block. How sad.

I guess I could change the name of this blog to “Life, Love, Spanking and Utterly Boring Minutiae.” But that’s no fun to read.

I could find something to rant about, but honestly, I don’t feel like it. Too much negativity around lately.

So, when at a loss, the only thing left to do is post nekkid pictures.


So here you go — me, with the other John I love watching over me. 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

The great escape

What… did you think I was going to stay off-topic and keep ranting about world issues? Nah. I can only stand so much of that. I have way too damn much on my mind these days. Besides work, and the fact that I can’t stand this time of year, and all the bad news out there, now John, with his bent for being a squeaky wheel at work (which, unfortunately, is part of his job) is embroiled in a series of clashes with some of his higher-ups. He doesn’t seem to be concerned about it, as he has Union representation. Me? I’m freaking out. And every night when we talk and he tells me the latest details, I sprout a new crop of gray hairs.

So yeah. I needed some escape. And guess what? So did Steve. He still hasn’t found work yet and has no idea where he’s going to end up. That kind of uncertainty would send me to the loony bin, but he seems to be taking it in stride. Nevertheless, I think he needs his mini-oasis times as much as I do.

It had been a couple of weeks, and I was more than ready, tense and taut and needing to tell the world to eff off for a couple of hours. What is it about an intense spanking session that makes everything go away? I closed my eyes and soon forgot it all. My only awareness was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Steve’s voice. My initial squirming and resistance melted into acquiescence, welcoming the sting and sinking into it.  No tears for me this time; I didn’t feel sad. It wasn’t that kind of release. The feeling was more like the tension was suddenly rushing out my pores, out my lungs as I exhaled, leaving behind nothing but sweet, clean euphoria.

There was pain; of course, there’s always pain. At one point I had my face mashed into a cushion, hollering into it, muffling my cries. But did I want it to stop? No. Whenever a flurry ended, I raised my hips up for more.

“I want to use the crop today,” Steve whispered. Yes. It’s our favorite.

So, here’s a before picture:


Note the socks. My feet were freezing, so he insisted I keep them on. Wouldn’t want me to be uncomfortable, would he?

Well, not my feet, anyway.


Cliché as this is, damn, I needed that. 🙂

Nothing changed in those couple of hours. But they were a pleasant respite all the same. And the bubble of euphoria took me into the evening and then to a wonderful night’s sleep.

Now, work is done for the day, and it’s time to hit the gym. Always a fun time working out after a hard spanking…

(No. I’m not really complaining.)

OT: So. Damned. Frustrated.

And overwhelmed. And scared. And angry.

Sorry, folks. But this blog is about life too, along with the fun stuff. And I just have to blow this off somewhere.

The Paris terrorist situation has me freaked out. Not so much fear for myself; I’m not actively worrying that it will happen here (again), although that’s always possible. I’m just in that spiral where I feel like it really sucks, living in a world where atrocity like this is possible. Where people can be so criminally and brutally insane, and then other innocent people have to suffer for it.

And even worse? The various forms of backlash. The anger spewing forth on social media. The talk of retaliation. Effing idiots like Donald Trump saying that Paris should have had guns. Yeah, right. WTF? Everyone should have gone to the concert and all those other venues packing? And what good would that have done against bombs?? And how is it that someone so incredibly fucking insensitive and stupid is a Presidential candidate?

The anti-Muslims are raving anew about how horrible these people are. But blaming an entire religion for the actions of fanatics is just as bad as their hatred for us. That’s like saying all Catholics are child molesters, because of the church scandals. Can’t people see how illogical that is? Fighting hate with hate is a death sentence.

The religious are telling us to pray. The atheists are telling us don’t pray, act. Do something. It’s no secret that I am in the latter camp, but I feel utterly powerless. Just what am I supposed to do, exactly? I am but a mere drop in a vast ocean of craziness.

And please. If you want to pray, then do. If that brings you comfort, go for it. But please stop telling me to pray. Please stop telling me to believe in what you believe. What good does your prayer do? Does it help any of those people who were blown to smithereens in Paris last Friday? You will only make me angry if you tell me to pray. Every time I see one of those “Pray For Paris” memes, I have flashbacks to being fourteen years old, and being face to face with my brother’s religious friends, sweetly telling me to pray for him after he was thrown out of a car and became part of the freeway. I called bullshit then, and I’m calling it now. So please. Do what you need to do… quietly. And if reading this makes you angry at me and you think I’m a horrible person, then I guess I’m just not your cup of tea. I’m sorry.

I wept in John’s arms this weekend. I just felt so overwhelmed, so sad, so scared. I know I’m not alone in this. But sometimes, the feelings get bigger than I can handle. And then there’s nowhere to go but downward. No. I do not want to go there.

I don’t have any answers. I just have questions. And feelings. Lots and lots and lots of feelings.

Thanks for reading. I am going to go kick some metaphorical ass at the gym now.

Sending my lurkers some love


It’s that time of year again: Love Our Lurkers Day (LOL Day), now in its tenth year. Created by Bonnie and now hosted by Hermione, this event over the next two days is for our shy readers, the ones who read but don’t comment. This is your time to peek out, say hello, give voice to your thoughts about what you’re reading. Bloggers love comments; without interaction from readers, we might as well just be talking to ourselves. We appreciate you!

You can be completely anonymous, no worries, should you choose to be. And you don’t have to wax witty or prolific. It’s not a contest where the Best Comment Wins. 🙂

Of course, my regular commenters are welcome to say hello too. Come one, come all. (No, that’s not meant to be dirty. What’s wrong with you people…!)

Every year I manage to get some brand new de-lurkers. I’m hoping the tradition will continue. The floor is open…

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