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 category “Alex Reynolds”

Better late than never, I guess

I am buried six feet under in work and really don’t have time for personal writing, but you know, I just have to make time, before I forget it all. I don’t know who reads these party reports anymore, but I still like to get them down for memory’s sake. Settle in; this will be long, as I’m going to attempt to do it all in one installment.

Here is one of the many fun signs Joe made up for the party suite, and damn, he wasn’t kidding about this.

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So let’s begin with last Wednesday. It seemed, for me, the party was going to end even before it began. As the afternoon wore on, I started feeling the ominous and unmistakable signs of a cold coming on. No. NO! Goddamn it. You couldn’t wait just one more week, you stupid fucking germs? I went to the nearest pharmacy and bought a crap ton of cold medications — cough drops, nasal spray, saline nasal rinse, decongestant, Nyquil. Figured if I was going to have a damn cold during the party, I was going to drown it in drugs.

Got home and decided to try to ward off the cold with the saline rinse, and commenced to struggle with getting the tight plastic wrap off the neck of the bottle. There was no pull tab, and I picked and picked but couldn’t get the wrap to budge. So I grabbed a knife and started trying to maneuver it between the bottle and the plastic… and slipped. And felt the tip plunge into the pad of my thumb.

Holy crap, the blood. So much of it. Everywhere. Who knew a cut slightly longer than a quarter inch could make a kitchen and bathroom look like a slaughterhouse. “It’s a sign,” I thought. “We shouldn’t go. I’m sick, I’m clumsy, this is going to be a disaster.”

But of course, I calmed down, cleaned, bandaged, and soldiered on.

The next morning, got the car packed and headed to John’s, and then we were on our way. I wasn’t feeling well, but my excitement seemed to be overriding it, so I took some meds and stuffed my purse with tissues. The drive went smoothly — well, almost. After we made a bathroom stop, John took out — of all things — a tray of sushi he had in the cooler for a snack. As John drove, I held it on my lap, opened it, and then reached out to my left to offer him the tray… at the same time he reached right to take a piece. We collided, the tray flipped, and a cascade of raw fish, wasabi and ginger splattered over me and across the passenger door.

Oh, and did I mention that the rental car agency hadn’t had the car I’d requested when I went to pick it up, so, in apology, they gave me a free upgrade to a Lexus??

Pulled over, managed to clean up the mess, back on the road again. Amazingly, I guess I got it all, because the car didn’t stink of fish the rest of the way. (And we thoroughly cleaned it with a sponge and soap later, once at the hotel). Despite these mishaps, we made it to the hotel in one piece.

Thursday night was the usual meet and greet, lots of hugs and kisses and squeals of joy (well, more like croaks, from me). So good to see everyone again. I tried my best to keep my hands germ-free (hand sanitizer), used tissues copiously, etc., but I’m sure my cold was spreading. The only thing that made me feel a little less guilty was that there were several others at this thing who had some sort of affliction or another. I wish I could name each and every person I greeted and talked with, but I know I’ll forget some and my brain is a bit foggy at this point, so it’s best if I don’t try.

I played just once that first night, and it was a quick, light scene, over jeans, with my beloved InspecterHide Michael. He is often my first scene at these gatherings, which makes me happy. He was with a young woman, new to parties and the scene, FetLife-named Ellie3, who was the most adorable pixie you could imagine, and was as sweet as she was cute. I was happy for her, watching her plunge in with both feet, experiencing everything the party had to offer.

We had brought lots of snacks to keep in our room, so we didn’t go to dinner that first night. Later on, Joe ordered pizza for us all, but I didn’t have any. My appetite had pretty much gone AWOL. I can’t remember when we left to go to bed — probably on the earlier side (read: before 3:00 a.m.).

Friday, the cold felt more full blown, but I got up, showered and dressed, and we went to meet a dear friend for lunch at Cheesecake Factory, hanging out there eating and chatting for a couple of hours, which was lovely. However, when we came back, I was full-on sick. So I crawled into bed at about 4:00, fell right to sleep. John woke me at 7:00.

Him: You want to go to dinner?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You want me to order room service?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You want to go to Joe’s room?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You just want to go back to sleep, don’t you.

Me: Uh huh.

So, with much convincing, John left to go join the party, and I crashed back into sleep, not waking up until about 10:15. Somewhat fortified by all the sleep, I decided to get up and make an attempt at an appearance. Since Friday night was designated as a pajama party in the main suite (optional, of course), I didn’t have to dress up. Put on a little makeup so I wouldn’t terrify people, and John came by at 10:45 to check on me, finding me ready to go. And so I finally came to the party, and even managed to do a couple of scenes — a second one with IH, who took me to his room (cool and quiet) and gave me a lovely strapping, and my first scene of the weekend with another one of my favorite people, CalNation (I’ll call him CN). I managed to do some chatting, because there were so many people I wanted to talk to, but a lot of the time, I just sat on the couch, curled up in my jammies, watching the scenes. It was the end of our second night there, I’d barely played, hadn’t even seen Alex and SpankCake yet, and I was so damn frustrated with this cold and feeling like I was only running on a couple of cylinders. I was determined to rally for the rest of the weekend, even if it killed me!

Saturday morning when John got me up, I could feel the difference. The cold had fully settled into my sinuses and throat, but I didn’t have that heavy, sluggish, sick feeling I’d had the day before. Time for fun! There were a couple of events planned for the afternoon in Joe’s room, and then we had plans to go to dinner with Alex, SC and her beau R (sadly, Paul didn’t make it this time, as he was in the UK). First, we went to lunch at DuPar’s with our friend Mir, and at 2:00, showed up for TTYL (a creation of Joe’s: Thongs, Tights, Yoga Pants and Leggings). I wore new yoga pants. Joe’s room was set up with a couple of massage tables for people to scene on, and I got onto one to play with SDSpanko, another great player with implement prowess. Among other things, he had an oversized leather strap that looked like it was more suited to flogging an elephant. Just to show how looks are deceiving — it looked terrifying, but it actually felt kinda good! Intense impact, but not super thuddy, and the warmth from it radiated and tingled. Yum. I also did a second scene with CN; I so love playing with him! He has this delicious way of gathering my hair in his hand, or pulling my upper body up close into him with his left arm as he spanks with his right. And he’s so damn cute. 😀

At 4:00 was Club Finn (named for the premier flogger for our gatherings, Fineous), which is sort of a kinky “spa time” for the ladies. We get massages, sensual floggings, hair-brushing (on our hair), champagne, raspberries and chocolates. The tone of the room calms and everyone is welcome to stay, but Joe said, “Guys, if you’re here, it’s best if you’re pampering a lady!” And so I took off my shirt (I was in a sports bra), and sat at CN’s feet while he delivered a neck, shoulders and upper back massage that had me melting into the carpet.

Quick nap, clothing change and makeup, and we were off to Alex and SC’s suite to pick them up for dinner. We went to HoneySalt, a restaurant John and I had never been to, but A & SC had and they loved it, so we went on their word, and a good word it was, too. What a cool place! Great service, wonderful food, and the company was perfect. The five of us laughed and ate and drank — I was fortified with decongestants so I wouldn’t be blowing my nose every five seconds. I even splurged and got a glass of sparkling rosé… which hit me like a ton of bricks. I guess, combined with the cold meds, it had the effect of three times the amount I’d drunk! A, SC and I shared an absolutely obscene dessert — a brownie, topped with a chocolate chip cookie, topped with salted caramel ice cream — and John and R had sorbet and port. John and I had another one of our collisions; he moved the glass toward me so I could take a sip, and I reached my hand out at the same time… and knocked the damn glass over. I was mortified, but John assured me it was OK.

Aaaand then there was the guestbook. As legend has it, last time Alex and SC were at HoneySalt, SC was a bad girl and wrote salacious things in the guestbook. So this time, Alex said she had to behave herself… but she didn’t. She started writing something, but the pen they gave her ran out of ink. So guess who pulled another pen out of her purse so SC could continue? (Raising hand) I suppose that makes me an accomplice. Anyway, I won’t try to explain what she wrote/drew on the guestbook, but Alex then took the book and wrote underneath: “I’m sorry!” I then grabbed it and wrote, with an arrow pointing to SC’s writing: “We don’t know her!” SC wrote: “Yes they do!” I wrote: “No we don’t!” And that’s how the guestbook was left. I don’t know we can show our faces in there again. But I’m sure we will.

Back to Joe’s suite for the night — the theme of Saturday night’s party was purple (for no other reason except that it’s Joe’s favorite color). So there were purple balloons and banners, and everyone was encouraged to wear the color. Not many men I know can pull off a lavender suit, but Joe did it. John found a shirt that was a sort of a maroon, which is close enough. Alex came in a purple cheerleader outfit, and SC was quite the stunner in black stockings, heels, and a black and purple corset. I had a dress in a purple print, and underneath, I was wearing a new purple bra and panty set.

(Here, I will sideline and apologize because I have zero pictures of my underwear, or of any of my scenes. I wish I did, and I regret it. But I guess I was off my game, wasn’t thinking ahead, and didn’t see to it that any shots were taken. Boooooo. But here is a fun shot of John and me; we were playfully slow-dancing to Bob the DJ’s music and our friend Sam snapped us. I like the dark effect! ♪ dancing in the dark…♫)

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The rest of Saturday night is kind of blurry — no doubt due to meds, wine and general sick muddled-ness. Lots more talking and laughing. John Osborne and I went off and did a nice long private scene in his room, which was a wonderful break for me — I loved being with everyone, but the noise was making my congested head explode. I also seem to recall being spun around and bent over the bar top in Joe’s room, double teamed by John and IH. I cannot imagine how that happened.

Another scene was with a new guy who calls himself Mr. Woodland — what a hoot he is! We had a lot of banter and silliness, and I found myself wishing the scene would go on longer, but it was our first time playing. It seemed he enjoyed my bratting, so I was only too happy to comply and give him some, including giving him a new nickname (which I can’t say here, because it has to do with his real name. Oh well!).

At midnight, Joe had arranged for a presentation to honor Bob and Ariel, long-time party goers who, years ago, opened their suite to everyone and had extraordinary room parties. They had taken a sabbatical for several years due to health reasons, but now they are back, and Joe wanted to acknowledge their well-earned reputations as scions in our scene. A few people got up and spoke, including Mir and me, and the speeches ended with a poem Eve Howard wrote for them. Joe presented them with a plaque, too.

I keep thinking I had other scenes that night, but damned if I can remember. IH was leaving in the morning, and he and I were so hoping to get in one last scene before I went to bed. But unfortunately, he was committed to some others first, and while I tried to wait, it was getting late and I was running on fumes. So, reluctantly, I had to say goodnight and goodbye to my friend. There will always be next time. And with that, John got me back to the room and poured me into bed around 3:30.

Another side note: The energy at this party was high and positive. Even in my state of cold-ish blechhh, I could see this. Regardless of personal opinions and politics, and all the animosity that has gone down in recent months, it seemed to have all been left at the doorsteps. Joe wanted that, and I’m glad we all worked together to give it to him, and to ourselves. Like his sign said, we damn well needed it.

Sunday morning, after a shower and hair wash, I went to get us coffee while John went to the suite to snag us seats for Strict Dave’s Punishment Court. We had a full house for that, and he did not disappoint: the cases were hilarious. And of course, Alex took SC to court for her antics at HoneySalt (SC lost). John said she should have called him as a witness, because he would have thrown me under the bus and said that I gave her the pen.

Backtrack a bit — a few months ago, Alex, SC and I were shopping, and we came upon a tank top that we had to have, so all three of us bought one. The plan was for us to wear them at this party, named 50 Freaks, but you know how plans go sometimes. Poor Alex was so busy and stressed out and overloaded before coming, she forgot to pack hers. So, you’ll just have to imagine her as a third person in this picture (although she did take it for us).

SC and me, getting our freak on:

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After Court, several people went for a very late brunch to a nearby bar and grill, but John and I decided to pass on that and just hung out in the room for a while until we were ready to go nap. Sunday night had no activities planned, just free for everyone to come and go as they pleased, so we lingered in our room, packing some of our stuff, and watching the last hour of the Oscars (what a crazy upset that was!) After that, we went for a light dinner at one of the hotel’s restaurants and at a little after 10, rejoined the party for the last night.

I think at this point I need to mention Michael Masterson. I thought we were going to play, truly I did. A while back on FetLife, he had written a post talking about how he operates at parties, and he said he never asks people to play. That if you want to play with him, a surefire way to make that happen is to brat him. So, because I figured it was time for me to grow a pair and face the Mighty Masterson, I bratted him on FetLife. And I got added to his personal list.

So, I’m not really sure what happened. We had several encounters at this party, lots of greetings. I was playfully sassing him throughout; at one point, I even reached out with my foot and nudged him as he was passing. He came over, hugged me and said, “Bad girl, don’t kick me!” I answered, “I was just trying to get your attention!” On Sunday night, I was sitting on the couch with Jaibug, and he came over, complimenting my outfit for the evening and saying he liked my glasses. Were they new? “No,” I replied. “I had them on last time. You just weren’t looking at me.” “Oh, that’s not nice, bad girl,” he scolded. Then he proceeded to pick up a purple balloon. “You’re getting three; count them!” he warned. And then he bopped me on the head with the balloon, three times, as I counted them out loudly.

After, he asked, “What do you say?” Without hesitation, I called out, “Fuck you, sir!” He pulled a paddle out of his back pocket and said, “Would you care to rephrase that?” Shrinking up against Jaibug, I answered meekly, “Screw you, sir?” I thought that was going to be it, but he just laughed, said I was too much, and went to get something sharp so he could loudly pop the balloon, now in my lap.

He did ask if I was going to the next big party, and I said no — it’s either tonight, or he’ll have to wait until Shadow Lane. “That sounds like a challenge,” he said, to which I answered, “Take it as you will!” with a cheeky grin.

But still, it didn’t happen. Was it because I was sick? Was he being cautious? Was he just too busy? I dunno. Whatever the reason, I remain still untouched by Michael Masterson. Damn. He was autographing butts this weekend and everything. Oh! Almost forgot — on Sunday night, when I was trying to maneuver around tightly packed bodies and furniture to reach my purse, I kicked over Michael’s beer, which was sitting on the carpet beside the couch! Ugh! I was so effing clumsy this weekend! Oh my God… I was afraid he’d think I did it on purpose to brat him! (The girls do the most outrageous things to this man.) He thundered, “Did you just kick over my beer??” but when he saw me with both hands clapped over my mouth, I think he could see it was truly not intentional!

Because it was the last night, and I was already sore, not to mention sick, I was trying very hard to make my best choices for who I wanted to play with. If I had been well, I would have agreed to more scenes, but as it was, I had to prioritize. I played with JC, because I like him so much and he and Piper are always so sweet to me. He didn’t use any of his implements, even though he had a massive toy bag. I’ve told him on several occasions that he doesn’t need a single one of those things — he’s got a hand that could make me say mercy, and I can’t say that about too many!

And of course, because it isn’t a party weekend without a full-body double flogging from Fineous, I got to indulge in that later in the evening, off in one of the bedrooms. Next to us on the other bed, Princess Kelley and Sir Siq were double-strapping the bejesus out of Maddy Marks, but I was so spacey and floaty, I completely tuned it out, although occasionally their banter drifted into my ear and I smiled into the pillow. The flogging relaxed me, took out all the knots and tension, and I felt very serene afterward. I got back into my clothes, but then decided to go back to our room to change out of my skirt, sweater and heels and into yoga pants and t-shirt, and I dispensed with shoes altogether.

More chat, more hanging out, more watching. Things weren’t even beginning to wind down; clearly, this last blowout was going to continue all night. All weekend, Joe and his girlfriend Mackenzie had taken care of us all, keeping us fed and hydrated, entertaining us, organizing us, making sure people were happy, and Joe had doled out plenty of spankings. Now, here it was 2:00 a.m. on the last night, and I overheard Joe said it was time for him to let go and become Malibu Joe (which is his code name — I have no idea how it originated — for getting blotto drunk). I can’t blame him; hosting these weekends is damn hard work! But I knew this was my last chance, so as he headed toward the bar, I intercepted him and said, “Noooooo, not yet, Joe! We have to play!” He laughed, and we were able to grab one of the massage tables where a scene was just ending. I lay on it with a pillow bolster under my hips.

As I’d mentioned, I was “out of shape” for this party. My scenes, while wonderfully enjoyable, were also somewhat painful. A part of me was wondering if I was going to ever feel like my old self again. And then Joe started. And the magic happened.

He warmed me up with his hands, then started in with implements, often using one in each hand. Floggers. Straps. That thick heavy strap that SDSpanko had used. Something else. I had no idea what it all was. The party went away, I closed my eyes, and all I did was feel and hear impact. I trust Joe 100% with anything in his hands, so I didn’t have engage any part of my brain being concerned about stray shots. As the scene progressed and he paused, my mind screamed, “Don’t stop. More. Harder. Please.” I didn’t speak, but I know I was raising my butt up higher, because Joe read me and continued. He checked in with me once, I said all was perfect, and we got even deeper into it. For that few minutes, I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t out of condition. I was in the bliss of subspace, the blows feeling like kisses. I could have gone on and on and on, even though guttural groans were now coming out of my throat and Joe was doing a finale of slamming his hands onto both my cheeks at the same time. Oh, so good. I collapsed onto the table, one foot hanging off the side, and just breathed as he massaged me, rubbed lotion into my punished skin. So. Very. Good.

Somehow, I peeled myself off that table (people were waiting to use it, after all), set my clothes to rights, and gave Joe a massive hug, sending him off to Malibu-land with my blessing. After that, I was so spaced out, I didn’t want to talk, so I found a free spot on one of the couches and curled up, wrapping myself in a warm blanket that had been left there. And I just watched everything for a while, until I was joined by MaMa Blue and a lovely young woman whose scene name I don’t know, so I will just call her B.

In retrospect, I should have ended the night there. I was played out, it was late, and we were getting up at 7:00 a.m., just a few hours from now. But on these final nights of these spanking/socializing extravaganzas, one gets a strong attack of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), and I wanted to linger to the last possible minute, wring out every drop of enjoyment and camaraderie.

But then something happened. No, not to me directly. But it was something that triggered me deeply, and I got very upset. I tried to brazen it out, but then abruptly I got up and left the room, going into one of the bedrooms. There, I guess exhaustion and sickness and the sudden tsunami of emotion overtook me, because I burrowed into a chair at the far wall of the room, wrapped the blanket around me, and wept. Quietly, but still. People saw me. There was a very intricate bondage/suspension scene happening on the bed, and I did not want to disrupt that. John, MaMa and B came into the room, sat around me, shielded me as best they could, so people wouldn’t see me crying. I kept trying to pull myself together, but then I’d break down again. John went to find tissues for me and couldn’t find any, so he ended up bringing me a roll of toilet paper. One sweet woman who goes by the name RBG (I call her Ruth Bader Ginsburg) subtly slipped over and brought me a bottle of cold water. MaMa showed me cat videos on her phone and sang “Here Comes The Sun” to me; such a tenderhearted soul she is.

No, I don’t want to say what happened that upset me. Because I know I will be judged for my feelings, or I will be perceived as judgmental myself. And I just don’t need that shit, you know?

I suppose I should have just left. But I knew if I did, I wouldn’t come back, and I so wanted to say my final goodbyes. So there I sat, for about an hour. Finally, at 3:45, I was ready to get up. But by then, I was so wiped out, my eyes were swollen, I was so tired I felt delirious, so I really didn’t get to make the rounds of goodbyes after all. The party was still in full swing, so I hugged the people closest to the door and then walked out, not even waiting for John, who was saying his own goodbyes.

Not a nice way to end a party weekend. I wish it hadn’t happened. But I also cannot let it taint all the rest. Because in the end, it balanced out, sickness and all, to be a damn good party.

And so, we tumbled into bed about 4:45 a.m., only to arise a couple of hours later. I was so wiped out, the room actually spun when I got up, and spun again when I was in the bathroom; it looked like the floor tiles were swirling under my feet. But once I showered, I regained my equilibrium; we finished packing, loaded the car, checked out, got coffee, and were on the road by 8:00. I think this was the earliest we’d ever left, but it worked out well. Even with two stops (snack and bathroom) and a grocery run for John, we got back to his place by 1:00. Somehow, I got myself home, brought the rental back (bye bye, Lexus! You were luxurious!), settled in and collapsed, sleeping all afternoon and well into the evening.

Tuesday I lay low. I was still processing what had happened, and I was sick as a dog now. But by Wednesday, I had recovered enough to get back to work and start catching up with online stuff. I even exercised a bit, although there was no way I was going to the gym, not with all the hacking and sniffling I was doing.

I was plenty sore, but unmarked. Still, I find myself afflicted with “sandpaper butt,” so I guess I’ll need to exfoliate in the shower at some point! So, so happy to play again. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it.

Back to reality. My entire March is slammed with work, and I don’t think there will be much down time. It’s OK. I had my play time. And I need the focus, because it keeps me (somewhat, anyway) out of trouble. So I don’t know how much posting I’ll be doing. This is it for a while, I think.

For everyone who talked to me, played with me, hugged me and cuddled with me despite my having the plague, laughed with me, ate with me, made me forget life for a while… thank you. I love you all so much. Joe and Kenzie, “thank you” isn’t enough for all you did for us, and continue to do. MaMa and B, for your compassion and support when I was in a bad way, I am so grateful. And if I forgot anyone I played with, I am SO sorry. If need be, I’ll come back and edit, add stuff I omitted.

On a final note: three women, on three separate occasions during the weekend, unexpectedly said very sweet things to me, so kind and genuine that I was nearly touched to tears each time. To The Bad Alex (yeah, I know you renamed yourself The Real Good Alex, but we all know that’s BS), Ashley, and Sum_Nightsdream, thank you, ladies. ♥

Thanks for reading, if you’ve gotten this far. Have a good weekend, y’all.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, End of Year Edition, and more

Greetings, readers. As this will be my last post of 2016, I thought I’d present a hodgepodge of treats for you. So grab a beverage of your choice, whack off a chunk of that stale fruitcake with a hacksaw, and settle in.

First up, a few CHoS entries:

Mmmmmmm
I swear this sounds lile so fucking fun and a turn on
Lolol love it when a women love other thing beside sex 
You do have a sexy ass that should always be SMACK!! Good when that se,y booty is out

Uh… what? I’m sorry, I’m not bilingual; I don’t speak Moronese.

hi cutie, my name is Xxx and we have the same sexual interests.. I enjoy passionate kissing, foreplay, oral sex, anal sex, FWB, LTR, BDSM, role playing and doing anything to please you. I would love to explore every inch of your body with my hands and tongue. I like hard and fast sex, but prefer marathon all night sex.. I may be older than what you are looking for, but age is just a number and PLEASURE, weather it comes from yourself, someone younger, or older, is still PLEASURE. I am always horny and available. If this is what you are looking for, check my profile to see if we match and message me back

I don’t know whose profile you were reading, but it wasn’t mine, since mine said I wasn’t seeking sex. Yes, age is just a number, and so is IQ. Yours, apparently, is in the double digits.

You may have seen this comment before, since it was left right here on this blog. I thought it deserves its own special message. What a shame this person thinks they’re so clever.

I bet you only get spanked on the left side of your ass

Wrong again, Breitbart Breath, as is evidenced by this recent photo:

1gmv1l

And finally, to my special hater out there: Really? You think my last blog was all about little ol’ you? Tsk… now who’s vain, hmmm? My upbringing in the “entertainment world” had nothing to do with my political views — I am a well-educated woman and I have a mind of my own — so you may can the condescending claptrap. But hey, thanks for saying I have a pretty face. I do believe that’s the first time in all these years that you’ve ever said anything nice about me. 🙂

Interesting side note: Someone very close to me — who is a conservative and voted for Trump — read my last blog. He could have been pissy about it, but all he had to say about it was that it’s a funny and satirical piece, and some of the best writing he’s seen from me. How about that. I thanked him for his civility, and he said, “I’m the norm. The people who act like a-holes are the exception.” I’m afraid I disagree with that; I think it’s the other way around. But we’ll see.

Moving on — did you guys miss my annual sniping about fruitcake? Then this is for you. Our ever-trendy coffeehouse, Starbucks, unveiled a Christmas treat this year, available for one week only: the Fruitcake Frappuccino. It was described as a blended iced coffee drink with hazelnut and cinnamon, topped by whipped cream, caramel and matcha (whatever the @#$% that is). What’s fruitcake-y about this, you might ask? Well, also blended into the beverage are bits of dried fruit. That’s right, so you can eat your Frappuccino as well as drink it. It’s creamy! It’s chunky! It’s chewy! It’s disgusting!

And if you’re not already sick, here is a real view of it:

fruitcake

I’m sorry, but this doesn’t resemble anything drinkable to me. It looks like the inside of a Times Square toilet on New Year’s Eve.

Did everyone have a nice holiday? Mine had some pleasant moments, although I was struggling a bit. Earlier this month, Alex and Paul had a lovely little party, and I did my best to get into the spirit, dressing myself up, complete with black stockings that had red bows at the top, red pumps, and a black shirt that had “Naughty” on the front and “Nice” on the back. Last week, Alex, SC and I had a long-overdue girls’ night out, where we chatted for hours and exchanged presents. I got some nice things, including a beautiful, soft and plush robe from Alex, and SC gave me a Lego set… to build the Yellow Submarine! I haven’t played with Legos since I was a kid; this should be fun. But I think my favorite gift was one that came as a surprise in the mail: it was from Lily Starr, and when I opened it, I smiled, then giggled, then guffawed. It was a crystal pendant… of a snowflake.

I think this might have been the beginning of a turnaround for me. I felt my humor, long dormant, kick back in a bit. And my feistiness. Damn right I’m a snowflake, and I’ll accept that term, meant to be insulting, with pride. In fact, Lily’s gift inspired me to shoot this little video. 🙂 Screw with me, and I’m screwing right back. I may go down in a nuclear holocaust in the coming year or so, but I’m going down laughing.

* * *

Now, if I can be serious for a moment. This has been a brutal year. No, not just because of the obvious, but for so many other miseries befalling people I care about. Job losses, illnesses, broken relationships, getting outed. Deaths… so many deaths. John lost his own closest friend last month, and we are still reeling from that. And this was a terrible year for our beloved icons, with an unbelievable count of losses. Actors. Musicians. Authors. Sports figures. Astronauts. Just this week, we lost Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, one day apart. Reportedly, Ms. Reynolds’ last words were “I want to be with Carrie” before she had a massive stroke. I guess it is possible to die of a broken heart. My own heart breaks for Todd Fisher, who lost both his sister and mother within 24 hours, and for Billie Lourd, who lost her mother and grandmother. Sometimes life is very cruel.

If you have never seen Singin’ In The Rain, I am telling you to do so. Even if you say you don’t like musicals, see it anyway. It is so much more than song and dance, although those numbers are dazzling, and it’s impressive to watch a 19-year-old Debbie Reynolds, who’d never danced professionally before, holding her own with two of the best dancers of the 20th century. It’s funny, clever, energetic, romantic, and if it doesn’t put a smile on your face and lift your spirits, you might want to check for a pulse.

What’s my point? Life is short. Hold your loved ones close. Hang in there, and do the best you can. I say this as much to myself as I do to my friends. I’m going to put on my rain gear and boots, and plow bravely forward into the crapstorm that 2017 is looking to be, determined to have fun and experience love and joy where I can. May you all do the same.

Have a great weekend, y’all. ♥

Stress relief, and a runaway bus

OK, kids — no matter what side you’re on, I think we can all agree that this godawful Presidential election, fraught with anger and ugliness, could send anyone in this country to the loony bin. I know that if I’m going to survive, I need stress release, and I need to laugh. Fortunately, I’ve had opportunities for both this week.

First, for the past three days, I’ve been engaging in a war of bratty tweets on Twitter. It started out with Ulf Sayer, Kajira Bound and me, and then it expanded to include Alex Reynolds, Paul Kennedy and Nuna Starks. Ulf had claimed that, because of me, the hashtag #SpankOnSight has become an international necessity. And sometime yesterday, I’ve lost track of who started it, but the hashtag #BlameEricaScott became a thing.

So, I tweeted a photo of myself with a very innocent face, and said, “Who, meeee?” And late last night, Alex tweeted, “YES YOU!!!”

Humph! I then replied to all, “Did anyone get the license plate of that bus I just got thrown under?”

And Miss Alex came back with, “I did! Here you go!” Accompanied by this:

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Well, I never! I am flabbergasted! I am verklempt! Or, to employ my beloved boyfriend’s goyishe interpretation, I am kermufft!

Today, Kajira posted a picture of herself about to be spanked by Ulf, and tweeted that this is what happens every time she talks with or quotes me. To which I said, “You’re welcome.” 😀

But back to stress relief. Steve and I were able to get together for a couple of hours yesterday, and we made good use of it. And finally got some new pictures. For this one, he called out, “Give me your best ‘WTF are you doing??’ face!” Which translated into my signature “righteous indignation” face:

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And then, of course, there’s my “Is that all you’ve got?” face:

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Apparently, it wasn’t all he had.

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Notice that my thighs got a bit of attention too.

All good. I certainly felt a lot more relaxed afterward. And the laughter certainly felt wonderful.

Friends are good things. ♥ Bus tracks on my ass notwithstanding.

New from Northern Spanking!

A little over a month ago, I joined Alex Reynolds and Paul Kennedy to create a custom shoot for one of her clients. He was very pleased with it and wrote a gracious note to Alex, which she shared with me. Even better, he gave them the OK to post the video publicly on their Northern Spanking site, so everyone who wants to can enjoy it.

It’s called “Protester Punished,” and Paul plays a corporate fat-cat property developer — who just happens to have an environmental activist daughter (Alex). I play Paul’s wife/Alex’s stepmother, and I have my own agenda, which comes out about halfway through the video.

I want to share my two favorite pictures — sorry, nary a bottom in sight, but I love all our facial expressions! Here’s the one I call “Uh oh, Alex is in trouble…”

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I especially liked Michael Masterson’s comment about Paul’s face, that he has “a ‘Joker’ smirk.” You can’t unsee it, can you!

And then, when the tables turn, it’s “Uh oh, my turn.”

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For those who would like to see some action shots, you can go here for a gallery of them. Click on each thumbnail for a full-sized picture.

Speaking of Alex, I am seeing her and SpankCake on Wednesday for a belated birthday dinner and one of our marathon chats. It’s been a long time and we have much to catch up on. Wednesday just happens to be John’s birthday — I won’t be seeing him until Friday, but perhaps we can take a selfie birthday greeting and send it to him while at dinner. 🙂

In other news… there is no other news. I have much work to do and I’m just taking this quickie break to catch up. Hope everyone had a nice weekend!

Girls’ Night IN

Last night, Alex, SpankCake and I convened at SC’s house for dinner and catching up. It had been way too long! We ordered in from GrubHub, sat around in very comfy A/C and talked the hours away. What else do girls do when they have a night in? Do shots and have a pillow fight? Paint our toenails and do our hair? Please! That’s amateur stuff. We watched spanking porn. 😀

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SC has a reallllllly big screen, as you can see. Neither she nor Alex had ever seen “When Danny Met Erica,” so we watched. I must confess, it was more than a little squirmy, watching my own private bits flashing and gaping on such a huge screen. Still, it was fun to share my favorite video with them. They both pronounced it “hot.” Damn, I miss you, Danny Chrighton.

We also watched the finished result of the custom film that Alex and several of us shot for her client back in February. I think it’s safe to say I’m never going to wear a pillbox hat or gloves for the rest of my natural life. But we all gave it our best and it had been so much fun. Props to everyone involved. And no, sorry, this will not go public!

And this lovely evening was on top of a visit from Steve earlier in the day. It was kind of a thrash-and-dash, as he had a doctor’s appointment and a lot of other things to do in preparation for a four-day hiking trip he’s taking. Blech! Better him than me! But it was still enough time to lay on some sting and leave me pleasantly glowing for the rest of my workday until I met up with my pals.

Today it is going to be 90 degrees. Sounds hot, but after Monday’s 112, I will take it. My A/C could not keep up with 112, but it can manage 90s. I may even brave the gym.

Oh, and happy #NoPantyDay! That’s a thing, in case you didn’t know… June 22.

An All Hallow's Eve Visit From Super Spanko!!

Hump day already?

Considering that my work is super slow lately, this week is still speeding by. At least I have some fun stuff to post about.

First up, Steve’s visit yesterday. We had to skip last week, so both of us were more than in the mood for some play. My damn phone is acting up and I’m not getting all my texts, among other glitches… Steve sent me a text yesterday morning saying he was stalled at the car dealership where he was getting work done and he’d be at my place at 1:00 instead of 11:00. I didn’t get it, so by 11:45, I was stressing. But then I reached him on the phone and found out about the time change. Argh. The Phone Universe is telling me that I need to upgrade my 2012 Motorola Droid 3. But it has a pull-out keyboard and I hate touch screens! Wahhh! Must. Accept. New. Technology.

I digress. When Steve arrived and we’d caught up with everything, we decided to switch things up and take pictures before we played rather than after, mostly because he liked what I was wearing. We fooled around with lighting and positioning, trying to come up with something fun and different.

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Apologies for all the busy-ness around me. And yes, I do have an “Erica” magnet on my desk lamp.

He took several pants-down pics, of course… but it turns out that my new favorite photo is myself is fully clothed. I’ve already posted this on Twitter and Facebook, but y’all just have to put up with it here, too, ’cause I like it. 😀

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Of course, now we were more than eager to get to our spanking session, and it was deliciously intense. No implements this time, just a whole lot of his hand, which is formidable on its own. “I love that you need this,” he is fond of saying. Yes, I do. So much.

Still can’t believe that we’ll be friends and play partners for four years in just two months!

In other news — I’m figuring everyone knows by now that Alex and Paul Kennedy are engaged. Last Sunday, Princess Kelley gave her an engagement shower at a tea room. It was so lovely! Lots and lots of tea, all different kinds, plus finger sandwiches and scones and other treats, and wonderful service. Here’s a shot of what Kelley dubbed the “L.A. Brat Pack” — left to right, Harley Havik, Alex, Maddy Marks, Princess Kelley, and yours truly.

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Look at us, all classy and stuff in our finery! 🙂 I’m the only one not dressed in spring pastels, but I look dreadful in those colors.

My aforementioned crappy phone takes poor quality photos, but I did snap this one of Alex reacting to the tiers of treats that the server had just brought us. How adorably cute is this?

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One sad note: Our friend SpankCake was invited, but she wasn’t able to make it, due to other commitments. We missed you, SC!!

So yeah, my weekend wasn’t all about boring reunions and horrible food. 😉

Happy to report that Chross is alive and well! He posted after being absent for a little over two weeks. What would we do without our Fearless Leader?

Off to continue my mental preparation for a new phone…

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