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 “birthday spanking”

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 9/20

Yup, I’m still getting this crap, kids. I guess some things never change. And I suppose, in a perverse way, I should be grateful. After all, there will more than likely come a day when I’m bawling, “Why isn’t anyone perving me anymoooooore??” (eye roll)

MMMMMMM you like black cock you like to get your pussy pound deep and hard and fuck hard….. you like taboo

MMMMMMM… I like my butt spank. Bye now.

hi you looking to meet and get knotted let me know if your interested i have a trained pet

WTAF is getting knotted? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Buzz off, Junior. (Did I mention this one is 25?)

This one is in response to my never-ending lament about how I hate the “compliment” of someone saying I look good “for my age.”

I think your ass looks very nice for any age,,,,, I do think it would look nicer with a good spanking and a dick shoved up in it tight

(looking around) I’m sorry. I’m trying to discover who asked you what you think. Tight? You wish, honey. I get the feeling your tiny little member wouldn’t be tight in a thimble.

And finally, while we’re on the “of a certain age” BS…

Ready to start your cougar training?
ever thought about you being a live in full time?

You ready for me to claw your fucking face off?? And to answer your question… well, let’s review. I love my boyfriend of twenty-three years, and I still have no desire to live with him. So why in nonexistent deity’s name would I think about living with the likes of you?

I will say this for the twenty millionth time: Calling a woman a cougar is not a compliment. Knock. It. OFF.

Moving on, but speaking of age, I have another birthday this Sunday. Christ, didn’t I just have one? 😛 This week, feeling droppy after my intense experience with B last week and also feeling the birthday blues, I was so hoping I could play with D. Alas, it was not meant to be. He’s still around… but inaccessible. Working insane hours all week, and the only free time he has is on weekends… and I’m not around then. (sigh) Color me frustrated. (What color is frustration, anyway?)

Yesterday afternoon, speak of the devil, D texts me out of nowhere from work. He’s never done that before; he always emails. For about a split second, I wondered if maybe he was going to say, “Hey, if I take the afternoon off, you wanna play?” but I knew that was ridiculous. Responsible adults don’t do stuff like that. No, he was just saying hi. And then he segued into how he’s been “reminiscing” about our last scene. (Five weeks ago already!! Where the hell does time go??)

Oh, yeah?

Then he typed out a few of those memories. Nothing graphic, just… well. Yeah, I remembered them too.

And then he had to go on a conference call. Bye bye.

Well, hell. In a lather, I texted Jay and asked how the hell I’m supposed to work now after getting texts like those. She wrote back that I should tell him to stop reminiscing and start reenacting.

Oh, I liked that. I liked that so much, I emailed it to him later. I told him he had distracted me from work, that I’d been so flustered that I had to stop and do a workout. That he really should stop that. No, really. Stop it some more.

He wrote back, laughing. “Sorry about that.” Oh, sure. Sorry, my unspanked ass. Then he added that as soon as this work crush eased, “reenacting” was a top priority for him.

Of course, I have no idea when that might be. It could be next week. Or next month. Or next year.

Sigh again. So no birthday spanking session for this girl. Sucks.

But I will be with John my whole birthday weekend, and I’m sure he’s got something or another up his sleeve. So I’m going to head over there later and immerse myself in birthday attention. ♥ Fun stuff.

Have a great weekend, y’all. (I would say “happy start of fall,” but here in Southern CA, we don’t have fall, just extended summer!)

Onward… where to, I’m not sure

So here I am, staring another birthday in the face. Didn’t I just have one of the damn things? Look, I enjoy birthday festivities as much as the next attention whore hog, but I can do without this ageing business.

And — confession time. I don’t have a birthday spanking to look forward to. Because as it happens, I do not have a play partner at this time.

I feel kind of ridiculous and thought perhaps if I just didn’t talk about it, people would forget that big announcement I made a few posts back. I thought about deleting it, but I really didn’t want to. That would be denying it ever happened, and it did. And it was lovely and lots of fun, however brief.

Please don’t ask me for details… it is what it is. I will tell you this much. I have not lost a friend. Ulf is a dear, kind-hearted and special man I am privileged to know and who I hope to keep in my life for a good long time, as my friend, part of my chosen family.

It just seems he’s not meant to be my play partner.

So. Once again, I am adrift in spanko land. And you know what? I’m tired of looking. I’m not going to make a thing out of finding another partner. If it happens, it happens. But the process can be so damned disheartening and frustrating, and many times, the best relationships have happened organically and not when I was specifically seeking them. So I won’t.

Of course I will miss regular play. I’m not going to kid myself and say no big deal, I won’t miss it, I’m busy, I’m working, I spend weekends with John, spanking isn’t everything, so on and so forth. It’s a huge part of me and I feel a sadness, an emptiness when I don’t have it in my life. However, I would rather go without it than to settle for anything less than what fulfills me. I’m not going to play with just anyone, simply for the sake of feeling a hand on my butt. I need the connection. I need the trust and chemistry and the humor and the attraction and all those wonderful things that come together to make the potent cocktail that sends me into bliss.

In recent times, I’ve befriended a couple of lovely young women on FetLife — very young (early twenties). Both have been lucky enough to have positive and caring early experiences with good men, which is so very important. Both are eager sponges, wanting to soak up everything about this kink and learn about where they fit in all of this, and with whom. One of them recently told me that she was concerned it wouldn’t always be this good, and she was setting the bar too high. “It can’t always be this perfect, can it?” she asked.

In a word, no. Nothing is always wonderful. Even chocolate cake isn’t always wonderful. (Come on, you know you’ve had a dry piece or two in your lifetime.) Yes, spanking is readily available pretty much anywhere if you look for it. So is chocolate. But sometimes you get See’s or Godiva… and sometimes you get Russell Stover’s. Don’t settle for the latter. It just makes you want the former even more.

This is what I said to both these women — I told them they were given a very special gift, getting to play with good partners early on. They would go on to have a lot of experiences with many different people, if they kept on this path, and not all of them would be so hot. BUT… they would always have a benchmark. They would always know how it was supposed to feel when it’s right. And when it wasn’t, they wouldn’t have to question themselves. No. I don’t like this. Doesn’t feel right. Next.

Well, guess what. I’m taking my own advice, because I too have benchmarks. I have had some incredible play partners. I have had dozens — hell, hundreds — of positive experiences. And yeah, I’ve had some really crappy, unsatisfying, and even a few traumatic ones as well. But they were anomalies. And I knew there was something better, something worth waiting for. Because when it happened, when all those elusive factors came together and made for that connection, it was blissful. Quality over quantity.

Recently, a good friend asked me how I deal with all the losses of play partners I’ve had over the years — how could I stand having my heart broken again and again? I told her that’s the risk you take. It’s an unusual relationship, often times a fleeting one. And yes, it hurts to open my heart, give my trust, and put my body and soul in a man’s hands, only to have him go away. But the alternative is not playing. The alternative is not experiencing the closeness, the intensity, the magic. And that’s worse. That’s so empty.

Yup, I know there are those who think I’m too picky. That I have too many hard limits, my play focus is too narrow, I should open myself up to more experiences and some different types of people, should experiment more, should be more scene-inclusive, blah blah blah. Yeah, maybe. But you know what?

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That’s right. Screw this whole PC thing that says we’re supposed to embrace all varieties of our kink. That we’re supposed to “evolve” — implication being that if your scene tastes don’t broaden, you’re a dinosaur. Well, call me Erica-sauras. Or sore-ass. Whatever. I’m too old for this shit, y’all. I’ve tried other stuff. I tried to push my square peg self into some other round kinks and just got scraped and chafed and miserable. I have been doing this long enough… I know who I am. I know what I like, I know what works for me and what does not. I know where my comfort zones are. I get to say I don’t like stuff and I don’t want it. That doesn’t mean I don’t accept when others do it. People are welcome to do their own consensual kinky-fuckery. But acknowledging/accepting it and embracing it are very different things. For example? The recent Shadow Lane party and the extreme scene I mentioned that was stopped. It’s. A. Spanking. Party. If a man wants to kick and stomp on a woman while wearing heavy boots, and she wants him to kick and stomp on her while he’s wearing heavy boots, fine. They can knock themselves out… at a dungeon. Not at a spanking party. I don’t want to see it, and I shouldn’t have to.

If I were younger, newer, then I’d say sure, experiment. But I’ve done that. Sometimes I wish I did like more varieties of play — I’d certainly have more opportunities for fulfillment. But we are who we are.

So, here’s what I do want.

I am a bottom, a strong woman who happens to enjoy the power exchange of being spanked by a man. I am not someone who needs to be held accountable, except in a playful realm — I hold myself accountable. I am a living, breathing human — I am not an object. I am not something to be owned and controlled. Yes, you can push me, test my limits. You can break down my walls, break through my defenses, touch my soft center. But you do not get to break me. Don’t break my heart or my trust. Be my friend and give me loving firmness. Make me sting, make me sore, but don’t harm me. I can take a lot of pain from you if it is done with caring and proper technique. But if you slap/strike anything other than my butt/thighs, you will not like my reaction. You want to punch/kick something? Go to the gym, and stay the hell away from me.

Make me laugh, and let me make you laugh. There is great joy in what we do; it is not a dark and serious thing. Embrace it with me.

Yes, I like playing with younger men. Enough with the cougar crap and other ageist insults. I’m not a predatory beast. I’m a woman who is young at heart and in mind, in good shape, and I just happen to relate well to people who are younger than I am — both male and female.

And for sweet Christ’s sake — don’t disappear, don’t ghost. I have seen more damn disappearing acts than the Magic Castle, and I’m tired of them. Yes, I get that lives are busy. Mine is too. I don’t ask for much of your time and attention. I just want to know you are in my life and you care, and know in my heart of hearts that I will see you, get to spend some time with you, sooner or later. Shoot me a text or a tweet when life is crazy. It takes seconds.

I guess time will tell if my dream play partner will materialize. Meanwhile, life goes on. John is making a big fuss over my birthday and I love him for it. He’s already sent me beautiful flowers, and this Saturday (the actual birthday), he’s taking me to the Walt Disney Concert Hall to hear a live performance of Mozart’s Requiem. I have never been to this particular venue, and I love classical music, so this is a huge treat.

So, like I said, onward. I am a bit melancholy, a bit adrift, but I am okay. It is what it is. And life has a way of surprising me when I least expect it. We shall see.

Put another candle on my…

Are you ready for some Friday cornball nostalgia?

When I was a kid growing up in Southern California, we had a local kiddie program called Sheriff John’s Lunch Brigade. And a feature of the show was when Sheriff John celebrated his viewers’ birthdays — complete with this cheesy little number:

I know, it’s nauseating now. Heck, I found it to be a bit much even as a kid. But my point is, you’re supposed to put a candle on the birthday cake. But the other day, we had a candle, but no cake. So Steve improvised.

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Yes, that is a lit candle. And get your minds out of the gutter; it’s not inserted, it’s just perched. He knew I was terrified (I hate fire, passionately), so he lit it, snapped the picture and blew it right out, warning me to hold still. This was an act of supreme trust, let me tell you! He wanted to do this last year and I wouldn’t let him. I don’t like flame anywhere near my skin. But I knew now that he’d be careful and wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

And, since he’d drawn that pretty Sharpie heart, he had to color it in. Didn’t he do a good job?

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OK, so he went outside the line a little on the right. Nobody’s perfect. If you look carefully, you’ll see a faint bit of pink on each mid-thigh. That’s where the “ones to grow on” went. (groan)  I don’t want to fucking grow anymore, thank you!

It was a lovely birthday. I got lots of online greetings, and although yesterday was a work day with laundry and gym and other everyday responsibilities, I got to take a break and have lunch with SpankCake. Alex is out of town, or else she would have joined us, and the three of us will convene for the full celebration in early October. Meanwhile, it was so great to see SC; we’ve all been so busy and had fallen out of touch, so we caught up a bit and had a nice lunch. And she brought me flowers and a balloon! ♥

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Anyway, now I must return to work; it was an extremely busy week, but I am coming to the end of it and am wrapping up everything that needed to get done. It’s almost weekend time! Oh, and it’s supposedly the first weekend of fall… really? It’s going to be in the triple digits here by tomorrow or Sunday. Fall, my a$&.

Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

Birthday joy

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday, and I do mean celebrated. It was a nonstop day of joy and fun and surprises and love. And cake. And yes, spanking!

My birthday week started when I came home on Sunday and found these waiting for me:

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As impressive as the photo is, it doesn’t do proper justice to just how ginormous and beautiful this bouquet was. From my sweetheart, of course. ♥

Yesterday morning, I was up early and found copious quantities of greetings — on FetLife, on Facebook, in my email, on my phone. And of course, it wouldn’t be my birthday without a Wolfie Toon just for me, from my dear and talented friend Dave Wolfe:

Erica Birthday 2015

I then got dressed and ready, very eagerly… because Steve was coming over! First time I was seeing him in a month, and on my actual birthday day? I was beside myself, as you can imagine. So good to see him. So, so, so good. He brought me a sweet little bouquet and a gift card; I hadn’t expected anything, knowing what he’s been going through lately, so these were special extras.

He loved the dress I was wearing, so wanted to get some photos before he made a complete bedraggled mess of me. 🙂 So here I am, acting all demure and sh*t:

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Not quite so demure here, however:

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But enough of this nonsense; it was time to get down to business. Which we did. If Steve’s hand had weakened during the past month, I certainly couldn’t tell. In honor of my birthday, I got to choose my implements. (Yo, Cane-iac! Three of ’em were yours!) However, in the thrill of seeing each other and playing again, we completely forgot to do the official birthday swat count. John’s comment, when I told him this later, was, “Do-over!” rolling eyes

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He left around 3:30. But wait, there’s more!

I met Alex and SpankCake for dinner at Cheesecake Factory at 6:00. The three of us hadn’t been together since Shadow Lane, so it was great to see them and catch up — and on my birthday! I had chosen CF because I wanted their Chocolate Blackout Cake for my birthday cake. It is the platinum of chocolate cakes, with chocolate chips, chocolate frosting, and chopped almonds. But first, I had a healthy salad (which was so huge, I took some home).

Cake time with my girls! (we got lemon cake too, just for variety)

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And presents, too. I love coffee, and I love coffee mugs — check out the one Alex gave me (filled with my morning coffee):

cup

And for my sugar withdrawal after last night, she also gave me a little hair of the dog: two Godiva bars. 😀

SC’s gift requires a little setup — some of you know (especially those of you who follow me on Twitter) that I am a major Law & Order: SVU freak. And all of us #SVUDieHards are carrying on about tonight’s two-hour premiere of Season 17. So, SC got a pair of silky black PJs, and did some artwork on them. You’d have to know the show in order to get this, but trust me, it’s spot on. “In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered…”

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As for the PJ bottoms… you know that famous L&O double chord? The one often referred to as “Dun-dun”? It could also be “Bum-bum,” couldn’t it?

SVUpjs

Grumpy Cat (SC’s present from last year) approves. (Yes, I still have a wired mouse. Don’t judge me; I’m old.)

Anyway, after our usual five-hour chat marathon, we reluctantly said goodbye and I got home around 11:30. After a day so laden with excitement and treats, I was far too keyed up to even consider sleep. So I showered, caught up online, and then, while watching Conan, I ate every last bite of the leftover chocolate cake I’d brought home.

Back to reality — and the gym — today. But my cynical little heart is full to bursting. When the D monster comes to call, telling me how unloved and alone I am, I will pull up memories of Birthday 2015 and tell it to fuck off. Thank you, everyone. ♥

A Tale (Tail?) of Two Birthdays

First, I have an announcement. I am officially retiring the name “New Guy.” So no more New Guy, no more NG. Since he goes by the name SpankoTango on FetLife, I’m going to refer to him as ST. As one friend said, that could also stand for SuperTop. Which he most certainly is.

Tonight, the 19th, fell right between his birthday (the 15th) and mine (the 22nd), so I figured we were celebrating both this evening. I bought a giant chocolate cupcake and put two candles in it.

He came bearing gifts: A collector’s set of four Yellow Submarine glasses, plus a bag of reusable “ice cubes” (you freeze them and put them in your drinks) — in the shape of yellow submarines! How cool is that?

I thought for sure he’d combine his new age and mine and give me that amount for the birthday spanking. But no, he stuck with 54. Nice of him, right?

Yeah, right. Fifty-four with his hand… and every single fucking implement he had, plus three of mine. Twelve in all, plus his hand. One right after the other after the other.

Don’t bother checking the calculator. That’s 702. Oh, wait — he gave me one to grow on with his hand. So, 703. And that’s not even counting the warm-up.

Happy effing birthday to me!!

Here’s the arsenal:

And me, under the arsenal:

I started out laughing, being a wise-ass, even had the nerve to count one stroke as a half (never again! Ouch). By the last couple of implements? Notsomuch.

“I love your birthday spankings,” he teased. “I wish every week was your birthday.”

AAAGGGGGHH! Please! I’m ageing quickly enough as it is, thank you. 🙂

Oh, and he saved the heart-shaped paddle for last, ’cause he loves me so much. Yup. I was feeling the love, all right.

Afterward, we had our cake. Here’s ST, enjoying his. Isn’t he cute? But wait… what’s that on his face?

(giggling) Silly man. Fork must have slipped.

What a lovely way to start Birthday Week! (Hey, any self-respecting attention whore stretches birthdays out to last a week, I’m thinking.)

Thank you, ST. My Sweet Top.

Don’t try this at home

A bit of silliness from last night. You know, being spanked in this position is very awkward. The blood doesn’t know where to go — to my head or to my bottom.

Tops are evil. I know, I’m not telling you anything new. But I thought it was worth reiterating. New Guy comes over here with his toy bag stuffed with implements, plus a case with two canes in it. Oh, and wearing his belt. You’d think that would be plenty of instruments of correction, right? But nooooooo. On the way, he actually stopped the car, got out and cut a fresh green switch. @#$%!!!!!!

“I think you need a good switching, young lady.” Whatever. I think you need a lobotomy. (No, I didn’t say that out loud. I should have; had nothing to lose!)

Last night was quite different from our play last Monday. Whereas last week I’d been strung out with tension and was ready for a good cry, this time I couldn’t stop giggling. I felt like my blood had been infused with champagne bubbles and everything tickled me (well, except for those damned implements). Fortunately, he has a good sense of humor and played along.

After a long OTK warmup (I swear, I can feel his hand getting stronger each week), he stood me up and then piled a couple of pillows on the side of the bed. I started to lie on them.

“Did I tell you to lay down?”

“No,” I replied. “And you didn’t tell me to lie down, either.” Oh, the glee. Y’all know how much I love correcting a top’s grammar. Naturally, he didn’t love it one bit. I swear, you try to educate some people…

I had to bend over and put my hands on the pillows, but eventually he let me lie on them. (Rather, he picked me up and plunked me down on them.) After a healthy dose of his paddles and straps, it was switch time. It didn’t last very long, though. It broke.

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He was unfazed, though. He still had plenty left to work with. And it was able to impart quite an impression before it met its demise.

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Usually I wind down after a while, settle into my zone and shut up, but last night, I simply couldn’t; I was sassy to the end. I’m glad it’s not always like that, because that would get tiresome for both of us, but sometimes, it’s fun to be silly and light-hearted. However, his spanking/switching/strapping wasn’t light anything.

Still haven’t broken him of asking stupid questions, though. At the end: “Hmmmmmm… how many should I give you with these?”

“How the @#$% should I know?” I snapped.

“Well, that’s good for at least ten,” he said, laying ten hard ones on me. Then he stopped. I thought he was done, so I started to get up.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought you were done!”

“No, I said at least ten, for saying… oh, now I forgot what you said.”

Helpfully, I reminded him, “I said, ‘How the @#$% should I know?’ “

Sheeeesh! Try to be helpful!

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At 9:30 he had to leave, but not before he gave me a sample of all his toys again. He didn’t want me to forget how they felt, you see. Plus, it tweaked him that I’d already faded. My bionicity seems to have returned. Today, except for one tiny mark off to the side where the switch wrapped a little, I am completely unmarked. Sore, though. Definitely sore.

My apologies if the pictures are a bit large. Blogger is acting up today, and after the first image, it wouldn’t let me upload any of the others. So I had to do it the old-fashioned MySpace way: upload the images to Flickr, copy the picture code and paste it into the blog. I don’t know how to resize or adjust the photos when I do it that way. But at least I got it to work! Not bad for a computer-challenged sort.

Rainy day, sore bottom… all is well in my little world at this moment.

Thanks, New Guy. (He likes that name, BTW)

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