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 “anniversary”

Been a while…

Almost two months, to be exact. So what’s been going on? In the past couple of months, John and I celebrated our 25th anniversary together, and I had another birthday. The latter was last week and there were many fun treats and surprises. If I tried to list everything I received, I’d probably forget someone or something and cause hurt feelings, so I’ll just say I loved everything!

Oh, and the wonderful Dave Wolfe immortalized me yet again in another birthday toon! I love these so much. And love you, Wolfie!!

I mentioned this on his blog, but I really do appreciate the chesticular enhancements he gave me.

In non-birthday present news, a friend on Twitter sent me (gulp) a personalized clothes brush. You know, like a hairbrush, but bigger and heavier?

I was very tickled and touched by this, but ya know, I need to be careful who I allow to handle this. Clothes brushes are mean little mofos! The last time I had an encounter with one, I ended up like this:

Ow. The same gentleman also sent me a DVD he’d burned for me with several hours of Beatles footage, including “Yellow Submarine” (which I haven’t seen since I was a kid) and the wonderful documentary “The Compleat Beatles” (which I haven’t seen since I had it on VHS in the 80s). How cool is that?

Back to the birthday — okay, so I got flowers and chocolates and cake and bubble bath and jigsaw puzzles and coffee cups and facial mask and candles and a UPS (Uninterruptible Power Supply) and and and and… but no spanking. (sigh) However! That is going to be rectified, belatedly. My friend C from Oregon is coming for another visit! I will be seeing him Monday morning. Squeeee! He has promised to make this one “challenging” (what, the last one wasn’t??), and said I should get as much work done as possible this week because next week I won’t feel like sitting. Oy… I’m screwed. And I love it. Can’t wait.

Stay tuned for a play report next week!

In other news, I have deactivated from FetLife, for personal reasons. That cuts out yet another connection to our community — but right now, the spanking community is so fractured, I wonder if it will ever be whole again. (sigh) I wish I had a local posse like I used to… and ways to connect with them without having to wade through the cesspool that is Alt.com. I met with a man from there last week; he was nice enough, but a total mismatch. I have made it crystal clear that I am a spanking fetishist, that this isn’t about sex for me, and that I seek men who feel the same way and would enjoy a spanking scene as much as I do. This guy? All about sex. But “open-minded” and willing to learn to do something if it turned me on. (sigh again) Guys… that’s not the same thing. I appreciate the thought, but it’s absolutely not the same. I don’t want you to play with me because that’s what I like, and meanwhile, you’re fantasizing about post-spanking blowjob. Also, at this stage in my life, I really don’t want to play teacher. I want to be able to relax into a session and know I’m in experienced and good hands.

Where are the spankos? I know you’re out there, dammit!! I am here waiting for you…

Stealing a moment

I am in full pre-party insanity mode, but of course I can’t leave without an update. It has been a nutty week, very busy with work and preparations to head out of town. As timing would have it, work got super busy just about now, and I will be quite slammed when I come home. So it seems prudent to get as much done as I can before I leave, right?

I woke up early yesterday morning (as in 4:00 a.m.) and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I got up and worked a couple of hours, then went back to sleep. Yesterday was supposed to be a day at home, doing laundry and working, and today I was going for a haircut and to get the rental car, packing, etc. So I got up once again, put on the coffee, piled the laundry into the basket and settled in to work. Then my hairdresser calls.

Turns out my appointment was not for this morning, but for yesterday morning. Aaaaaagh!! I panicked. My hair was overdue for a cut and had achieved that rat’s-nest look it gets, not to mention the half-inch of gray roots poking out of my part. Fortunately, she was able to squeeze me in at 1:30, so I forgot about the laundry and work and dashed out to get my hair handled. Back home and back to work. Today I have done the laundry, will pick up the rental a bit later, and then start the ritual of pulling together about a week’s worth of stuff for three days away. Doesn’t everyone need a dozen pairs of panties when they go away for one weekend?

It’s been a strange pre-party for me; I haven’t felt my usual enthusiasm and excitement. And the party buzz on FetLife has been remarkably sparse. Still, I am looking forward to seeing friends and enjoying some play. And there have been some odds and ends of correspondence that awaken my dormant spanko-ness.

This is from the party last February:

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Recently, the above gentleman texted this to me:

My dear, sweet Erica! Can’t wait to have you across my knee.

Well, yum. 😀 And then there was this little exchange with another friend:

Him: It’s been a long time since I caned your bottom. Why is that?
Me: It has indeed. I have no idea.
Him: Want me to? You know I’d love to.
Me: Yes, please.

So, I am going to try to focus on looking forward. There are several people who are not going this year, and who I will miss fiercely, but that’s the way it goes. As always, there is the promise of newness, of potential new friends and play experiences, as well as the comfort of familiar faces and rituals. The days will pass quickly, and I’ll be bitching about post-party drop before you know it.

And last but definitely not least: Happy 22nd anniversary to the love of my life. Thank you for sticking with me all this time. I love you with every beat of my heart.

It was 20 years ago today…

Yeah, I know, I’m dating myself with that song lyric, but whatever.

I’ve had a whole lot of “firsts” over the past twenty years. But on Memorial Day 1996, the ultimate first happened. Possibly even more monumental than the first time I had sex. On that Monday twenty years ago, I crossed over the line between fantasy and reality. After years and years of wondering and dreaming and fantasizing, at last I knew what it was like to be spanked for real.

And, as I’ve said many times in the past, it was even better than I’d imagined. I still live in the same apartment as I did then. I can look around and picture that day — the nerves, the excitement, the intensity, the sheer joy. The way my legs shook when I looked in the mirror and checked out my spanked backside for the very first time. I can still call up the man’s image in my head and hear his voice, even though he disappeared from my life as quickly as he came into it.

Twenty years! So many memories. So many spankings; hundreds, at least. Parties large and small. Video shoots. Thousands of words I’ve written, what with three books and countless posts (forums, blogs, FetLife, etc.). The parade of friends and play partners over the years. Gales of laughter. Buckets of tears. Sweet moments that touched my heart, and losses that broke it.

So many broken implements. 🙂

And, with the exception of the first three months, John has been with me through it all. ♥

The first few years involved a lot of fumbling and stumbling about, trying to figure it all out and determine my place in this new world. I think things began to fully solidify for me when Erica Scott was born in 2000. I have to laugh. Despite the evidence to the contrary in this old body, Erica Scott is merely a teenager.

When I was going through my darkness a couple of months ago, I was telling Steve how I felt like I mattered to no one and I could just disappear. That I was nobody. He said something like,”Erica Scott isn’t nobody,” to which I answered, “Erica Scott doesn’t exist.” That’s not true. She does. She’s me. Rather, she’s fully enmeshed within the soul and psyche of Erica [real name] — crazy, complicated, square peg me. As long as I live, Erica Scott will live too.

There is a sad irony to this occasion, and I’m a little embarrassed about it, honestly. On a day where the country is acknowledging so many brave souls who died, I am celebrating the day where a huge part of me began to live.

Where will TTWD take me from here? I have no idea. But I hope you’ll all stick around with me to find out.

Because, for now, I’m not going anywhere. 🙂

 

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Third Anniversary

Told y’all I’d be back when I had something fun to post. Actually, I have a great deal to say, but that will keep. For now, I’m in celebratory mode.

On July 25, 2012, I met Steve for the first time. Three years later, we’re still happily enjoying our play partnership and friendship. Yesterday, he showed up at my door, his arms laden with goodies for me — a huge bouquet of flowers, a bag of gourmet chocolate-chip cookies, and a sweet card, with a Starbucks gift card inside. I felt kinda bad that all I had for him was a card, but he assured me that I didn’t have to give him anything, that *I* was his gift. 🙂

Post warm-up, he mused, “I want to put three stripes on your bottom and write ‘Happy anniversary’ on it.” Since I don’t mark that easily, this would take some planning. We decided to use my Delrin cane, and he would strike each of three spots repeatedly until a nice stripe showed up. Ouch. But I was game.

“Hold still,” he admonished, as I felt him writing all over my butt with a Sharpie. He practiced a few strokes of the cane on my pillow, getting his aim sharpened, and then we proceeded with our little masterpiece.

And here it is. Observe the three stripes. Also, observe that Mr. Clever used my butt crack to serve as the “i” in “Anniversary” and “Erica.”

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“We are not amused…”

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After that, he went to work with a few other implements, obliterating the stripes and leaving me gleefully glowing and pleasantly sore.

All kidding aside…

When Steve came into my life three years ago, I was reeling from ST’s abrupt exit. From the beginning, I shared my abandonment/rejection issues with Steve, and he said, “I’m not going anywhere.” Since then, those four words became his mantra with me. He has said them countless times — when I was feeling insecure and fearful, when we had disagreements and misunderstandings, whenever I needed reassurance. We have had our ups and downs, but three years later, my top is still here.

Thank you, Steve. For all the intense, pleasurably painful, fun, cathartic, and edgy scenes, for being a good top, a good friend, a good man. For not going anywhere.

And aren’t my flowers beautiful? 🙂

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My "sweet 16" celebration

Yeah, yeah. Chronologically, I’m a whole lot older than 16. But today, in spanko years, I am 16. On Memorial Day 1996, a handsome, dominant man came into my apartment and introduced me to spanking, and my world was never the same again.

I wanted to forget about all the stress and heartache and just have fun. I fleetingly thought about buying some champagne, but ran out of time. On Friday, we’d had a brief power outage, not much longer than an hour. When it came back on, one of my cable boxes had blown out. So today, the cable guy was coming over between 3 and 5. Fortunately, he was here by 3:40 and out of here by 4:05. So I had plenty enough time to get ready for ST, but not enough to nip back out to get champagne. Oh well.

When he showed up bearing his toy bag as usual, I thought nothing of it. Until he sat on my couch, unzipped it and pulled out a greeting card. I was so tickled! It was a “blank inside” card with SWEET! written on the front, and he’d filled in a “Happy Sweet 16” message inside. That alone would have delighted me, but then he reached into his bag again, and pulled out… you guessed it. A bottle of ice-cold champagne. 😀  How wonderful is this man!!

I practically danced into the kitchen, getting the glasses while he opened it. We decided that we’d have one glass now, and then another after playing. And then HE decided we were going to combine some of my implements with his to total 16, and he’d give me 16 swats with each one. Of course, his hand wouldn’t count.

I had barely eaten anything all day — I don’t usually like to eat before scenes, so my stomach was empty. And that first glass of champagne slammed into me, full force. Delightfully so. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before I was giggling and talking funny and acting like a, well, a 16-year-old.

I know the spanking with 16 implements + hand must have hurt. But damned if I remember any of it.

I do recall that I obliterated another cane…

OK, so maybe it did hurt a little.

But hey! It was time for more champagne!

Uh oh! My glass foameth over!

We got a bit rambunctious in the kitchen, with ST determined to find every single pervertable I had in my kitchen drawers. I took smacks from wooden spoons, spatulas, a frosting spreader, a frying pan he plucked out of the dish drainer, a pair of chopsticks, a cake slicer (NOT serrated, no worries). And of course, one of my spoons bit the dust.

That second glass took me from tipsy to slightly woozy (yes, really — that’s all it takes with me), so I drank about 2/3 of it and then lay on the couch with my head in ST’s lap. I felt blissfully content, singing along with the iTunes radio playing on my computer, and we stayed there for a long time, chatting and relaxing. My head cleared, and when I told him the effects had worn off, he took that as a green light for us to play again. No complaints here! ST seemed unaffected by the champagne; I guess it’s a guy thing (they’re bigger and they can absorb more??). I’ve never seen John so much as tipsy either.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, after Round #3, I finished that second glass of champagne.

So… 16 years of spanking. Millions of swats, maybe? Well, thousands, anyway. What was the difference between Memorial Day 1996 and Memorial Day 2012?

Hmmm… well, in 1996, I marked like crazy. In 1996, it was just his hand, not 16 implements plus a drawerful of kitchen utensils. In 1996, I was a clean canvas, feeling myriad new emotions and sensations, and certain that I’d fallen in love with my spanker.

But in truth, I barely knew him. I never even found out his last name. I didn’t know where he lived. He did incredible things to me and I’ll always be grateful to him, but he was a stranger nonetheless. And what I fell in love with was what he gave me.

So I suppose that’s the biggest difference, between 1996 and 2012. Today, it wasn’t a stranger. Today, it was the bestest top ever, and — even better — a great friend. And this man, I love to bits.

My chronological 16th birthday sucked, as I recall. But this 16th was indeed sweet. I’m going to treat myself to some chocolate and a few episodes of Dark Shadows, and then slip off to sleep.

Hope everyone had a good three-day weekend.

Anniversary!

Fourteen years today for J and me. Ours is a relationship that is unorthodox and incomprehensible in some ways, and couldn’t be more traditional in others. But whatever it is, that inexplicable and illogical something-or-other that connects people, we have it. He can drive me mad (and vice versa), but I adore this man. Can’t imagine my life without him.

One of his co-workers (female) had told him, “Oh, you have to take her to see Eat, Pray, Love. And then right afterward, make sure you have a reservation to a nice Italian place and take her there for dinner.” That’s exactly what he did. When he first told me we were seeing EPL, I thought, “Are you out of your freaking mind? Of all the chick-flicks out there now, that’s the chick-flickiest.” “Trust me,” he said. So we went and watched Julia Roberts gorging on pasta in Italy, praying in an Indian ashram and canoodling with the uber-gorgeous Javier Bardem in Bali. It was a well-done movie; definitely a chick flick, but sumptuous with scenery and Roberts was perfection in the role. And afterward, sure enough, I was craving Italian food.

We then went to Old Town Pasadena to our favorite little Italian cafe. I often get a warm seafood salad there, but J said nooooo, you have to get pasta tonight, and I agreed. So I had cioppino (seafood stew) over linguini — sooooooooo good! I couldn’t finish it all, so J was happy to do so.

Afterward, we walked all around Old Town, went to the bookstore, etc. I was wearing a short skirt and J was mischievously reaching up my skirt and grabbing my butt every chance he got — on side streets, in a deserted bookstore aisle, on our way out of the movie theater. We were parked at the end of a dead-end street, so when we got back to my car and I was opening the door, he swooped up behind me and lifted my skirt to my waist. “What are you, ten?” I screeched, and tried to pull it back down. He wouldn’t let me!

I’m telling you, the man is the devil.

He wrote me a poem (which he does every year on our anniversary and on Valentine’s Day, and has been doing that since we first met), and since today is the actual day, if I know him, flowers will be delivered later. I do love my big devil. 🙂

Perfect ending to a perfect weekend? I was driving down the curving canyon road that leads up to J’s house, looked to the side and saw two deer. Since I had my camera with me, I tried to get a picture, but by the time I pulled over, got the camera out of my purse and turned on and opened the side window, they had turned and were heading up the hillside. Still, I figure getting their cute little tails was better than nothing.

I am a city girl, and canyon life wouldn’t do for me. I don’t like the fire hazards and the mudslides and all the bugs and spiders and other wild critters. But I do love deer. How anyone shoots these animals is beyond me.

No spanking this weekend — J was saving me for the SL party, I think. Whatta guy, huh?

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

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