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.

Mr. Woodland Returns

And he was well worth waiting for. beaming

It had been, what, two years? Longer? I lost track. But it was so lovely to see him again. He had come straight from a work meeting, so he was in a coat and tie and looked spiffy as ever. We had a lot of catching up to do, so I broke out the cookies and Reese’s and we sat and chatted for an hour or more. Then at an appropriate ending point, he said, “Okay, let’s get you spanked!” Yes, let’s, shall we?

It had been a busy day, work and working out and getting ready. And of course, since I almost never wear makeup these days, and was feeling especially joyous, I wanted a picture. Once again, I’m reminded of just how much spanking takes me to my happiest place. Not just the act of it, but everything about it — the rituals, the anticipation, the camaraderie, the endorphin surges, the stress release, and so on. When I have dark times and depression, I need to remember that sometimes I feel like this.

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

We began on the couch with me OTK. He’d brought a toy bag this time — this was new! On previous visits, he’d just used his hand and his belt (and he’s wonderfully proficient with both). He said he’d bought some new things and wanted to try them out/break them in. (Thanks a lot…)

Even before we got to the implements, Mr. W commented that I was marking already, to which I scoffed. Please! He asked how I felt about being marked, was I okay with it, etc. I said I was — he asked how much marking was acceptable. I wouldn’t say this to just anyone, but I trust him, so… “I’m all yours.” “Okay, remember you said that!” he teased.

He remembered that I’m not fond of wood and prefer leather, so he brought out this very nifty little strap that I liked immediately. There were a few more things, I don’t remember the order, some I enjoyed more than others. “I need to put you over that ottoman,” he mused. “You can do that,” I answered. “Oh? Can I?” Oh, dear. “What — should I have said ‘you may do that’?” He laughed. “Yup, there she is!”

It was fun — I was giggling my head off. He was bantering with me, complimenting me (“I remember this ass! Ah, I could slap this all day long!”). We slipped right back into our comfortable groove. Once again, he mentioned that I was marking, and once again, I pooh-poohed it.

We moved to my ottoman, so he could “get a better swing.” gulp Once I was situated, he used the leather strap again and a few other things, and I was at that point where I was teetering between pain and the beautiful abyss of the sub zone. Then, reluctantly, he stopped.

“You are really marking,” he said. Nooo! Surely he’s exaggerating! I can’t be marking! I don’t mark! Not this soon, anyway! But he took my phone and snapped a picture, and showed it to me. Oh… my. (please forgive the extreme close-up)

But no way did I want to stop, so I told him it was okay and we continued for a little longer. And then… he said, “You know, I think you’re done.” While I didn’t want the scene to end, I fully appreciated how conscientious and caring he was. He didn’t want to cause harm. Every top needs to take a page from this man’s playbook. I asked if he would finish me off with his hand, and he happily did so.

He’d worked up a sweat, and I wanted to do something nice for him, so I sat in my recliner, had him sit on a pillow at my feet and I gave him a head and neck massage. I’ve been told I’m good at those, and I know he enjoys them. Then we relaxed on the couch for a while to talk and wind down. He asked if I was okay, did I need him to stay longer, and I said no, no, I’m fine, I feel great. And I did.

After he left, I wanted to get some more pictures while I still had color. My phone wouldn’t cut it, so I set up my trusty old digital camera with the timer.

It had faded a little, but you can still see the whitish spots in the center. (And for those of you who notice other things, that Beatles tumbler was a gift from my dear friend Jay.)

Of course, we can’t have Erica pictures without the Erica smirk.

Once done with that, I settled down to relax for the evening. I was deliciously sore and blissful.

Okay, so what’s with this marking nonsense? Pshaw… it would all be gone today, right?

Wrong. This is twenty-four hours later.

Well, kids… I hate to say it, but I think we need a moment of silence. The Bionic Bottom is no more. My once impervious flesh that faded immediately and self-healed is merely a memory. sniff Damn. Shocking, I know. I suppose if I went back to regular and constant play, I might toughen back up. But damned if I don’t have newbie butt again. Oh well… if this is my sole casualty from the pandemic, I should just shut up and deal.

Anyway — I received expression permission from Mr. W to post this; if any of you are on FetLife and would like to check him out, you can find him here. My friend, you are a gem and a gentleman. Thank you. Don’t be a stranger. ♥

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9 thoughts on “Mr. Woodland Returns

  1. Anonymous on said:

    Good job. Glad you are pleased.

    Rae

    Like

  2. spwebb65 on said:

    Loved this and your thoughts on the meeting.

    In terms of how you have described what happened, this is exactly what I look for in a meeting. The spanking coupled with aspects such as the consideration, communication and the aftercare.

    Wonderful.

    Like

  3. Rae — thanks. I am, very much so!

    spwebb — thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “When I have dark times and depression, I need to remember that sometimes I feel like this.”

    Oh sis, same. That’s hugely helpful for getting through the darker days. I don’t know that bouts of depression exactly get easier as we get older, but it does help to have the knowledge that we’ve felt this way many times before, always came out the other side and had more good times.

    Beautiful writing and photos, so glad you had a good time! ❤

    Like

    • Lily — thank you, sweet sis. And trust me on this… I AM older, and they don’t get easier. (sigh) I think I just learned more about living with them. And having good times like this help provide balance.

      Like

  5. I love it when I get marks. It makes me warm and tingly when I can see and feel it for a few days. It sounds like you had a wonderful time!

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  6. Looks like you are smiling all over. Thanks for sharing!

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  7. Heidi M on said:

    Thanks for sharing your exhilarating adventure with Mr Woodland, Erica! maybe the the unusual marks are as much due to the unfamiliar implements as to you being out of practise recently?

    Like

  8. Xen — I really did! And I love marks too. I was just a bit disconcerted that they came up so quickly. No conscientious top wants to continue when your butt is looking barbecued.

    Rich — I was indeed!

    Heidi — hmmm… perhaps. It had been a while, and we got into the implements relatively quickly. Who knows. I hope I build up before the party in September!

    Like

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