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”

Birthday treats

(This is long. But it’s about 50% pictures.)

So I had another birthday, this past Sunday, 9/22. It was a fairly low-key weekend — spent it with John, who fussed over me and took me out for a lovely dinner Saturday night. I got some very nice greetings via Facebook, Twitter, and email. And some fun presents!

The first was an early surprise from Jay — a hot/cold beverage Beatles tumbler, printed all over with their songs. Check it out! Also check out my bare naked… face. On second thought, don’t.

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Makes me smile every time I drink from it. Thank you, my friend!

Next, last Friday, I got a small package in the mail. I didn’t recognize the return address; some talent agency in Hollywood. To digress for a moment — most of you who have known me for more than five minutes know about my almost life-long celebrity crush on David Selby, who played Quentin Collins on the old cult classic horror serial Dark Shadows. So imagine my surprise when I opened the package and found this:

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(Damn, that man’s face still takes my breath away.) But who sent it? I flipped through the book, thinking a card might fall out or something, and then saw this:

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I know his autograph. I have it on many things. And for about two seconds, my heart was pounding.

Calm down, Erica. David Selby doesn’t know it’s your birthday. David Selby doesn’t know your address. David Selby, if he would remember you at all, it would be as that pushy woman who planted a kiss on him at the Dark Shadows Festival nine years ago.

Then I checked the rest of the mail, and saw a card from my buddy Dave Wolfe, of Wolfie Toons. And put two and two together. Sure enough, he was behind this. Wow. What a cool and thoughtful surprise. I love you, Wolfie! Thank you for being my friend all these years. ♥

When I came home on Sunday, I found a big beautiful bouquet of flowers on my doorstep (from John) and an Amazon package from my friend Lily Starr. The contents made me laugh out loud. Lily has a Chihuahua named Buster, and she knows how much I adore Chihuahuas. I know they have a bit of a rep for being scrappy and yappy and cranky, but I think they are just so damn cute. Anyway… she sent me a stuffed Chihuahua so I could have my own “Buster.” I put him on my desk next to Grumpy Cat, who as you can see is thrilled…

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As it happens, this birthday did not include any cake. Booooo! But Lily made sure I had a version of my favorite cake anyway. 🙂

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And in case you’re wondering, it is absolutely delicious. I know some coffee aficionados (read: snobs) think flavored coffee is plebeian, but I don’t care. I love it!

Did I mention flowers?

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Yeah, I got a lot of flowers. 🙂 I love flowers. My place smells so nice.

Finally — this isn’t really a birthday present, but John found this guy being given away (it had to be from a child who had outgrown him, because he’s in perfect condition) and brought him home for me.

Isn’t he CUTE???

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I named him Marlon. Marlon the Minion. However, John couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of this name.

John: “Hey, can we bring Marion to lunch with us?”
Me: “Who’s Marion?”
John: “You know, Marion.”
Me: “No, I don’t. Who the hell is Marion?”
John: “The minion!”
Me: “That’s Marlon. Marion is a girl’s name.”
John: “It’s a man’s name too!”
Me: “Yeah, but it’s a sissy name for a man!”

(And yes, before some of you get on me, I know that John Wayne’s real name was Marion. I don’t care. I couldn’t stand the SOB, and he had a stupid name to boot.)

Later:

John: (taking the minion to my car) “Don’t forget Marlo!”
Me: “Marlon! Marlo is a girl’s name!”
John: “Isn’t there a guy named Marlo? You know, a cop or something?”
Me: “You mean Detective Philip Marlowe?”
John: “Yeah.”
Me: “Marlowe is his last name, honey. And besides, he’s fictional.”
John: “Oh.”

Anyway, I’m really too old for a giant stuffed minion, but I’m keeping him regardless.

I told my therapist about all the goodies when I saw her yesterday. She gave me a wry smile and said, “Wow… some people actually like you. Imagine that.”

Yeah… imagine that. :-/

It was a sweet birthday. As for the much overdue birthday spanking? (sigh) Latest on that is maybe next week. Maybe. Ugh. D said he’s still drowning in work, but maybe he can squeeze in some time — he suggested coming over early in the morning before he goes to work. My reply to him was I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, at this point. I swear, if I wait much longer, we’re going to look like this:

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(thanks to Jay for sending me that!)

And thanks to everyone who sent greetings, good wishes, presents, cards, whatever, and for thinking of me. It means a lot. ♥

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!)

Catching up a bit

Aside from the op-ed post that I copied and pasted last week, I haven’t written for a while. Couple of reasons: one, I’ve been too freaking busy with work. And two: what with all the godawful stuff going on in reality, it felt somewhat disingenuous and forced to post about happy spanky stuff. But life goes on. So I figured it was time to update just a little.

In the past couple of weeks, we’ve had two birthdays — John’s and mine. I had a bit of a struggle with mine, as just a few days before, my play partner and I had officially ended things and I was dealing with residual sadness. But John went all out to make it a happy time for me, starting with flowers a week early and then taking me to Walt Disney Concert Hall for the L.A. Philharmonic on the actual birth date. I’d never been there before, so it was quite the adventure. The architecture of the place is pretty bizarre (oh hell, it’s just plain ugly), but the auditorium itself is breathtaking and the acoustics are perfect.

My birthday flowers:

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Full house at the Concert Hall:

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We got all dressed up, and later went out for a nice dinner. It was a lovely birthday.

I got some cool presents too — lots of Beatles stuff! A Beatles clock from Lily Starr, a HELP! placard from Alex and Paul, and coffee table books and a poster from another friend (I’m not sure which name to use for her, so I’ll leave that blank).

Last week, I got to have a fun little adventure. Alex contacted me and said one of her clients wanted to do a double session with her and me. I’ve shot custom videos for her, but had never participated in one of her sessions before, so I was game. Her client was from out of town and had booked up a bunch of sessions with several of her friends, so mine was in the middle of three last Wednesday. I hadn’t seen Alex since Shadow Lane, and Paul since a couple of months before that, so it was great to see them again, even though I didn’t get to talk with them too long. Alex’s client was into role-play and we did two half-hour scenes; he turned out to be a lot of fun and I enjoyed myself a great deal.

Even better? Catching up with Alex, I finally got pictures from her birthday party last July!

Before this photo was taken, I had been trying to launch myself onto a floating pool swan… and fell over off the side of it, getting thoroughly dunked. I blame my innate clumsiness, and the vodka-spiked lemonade might have had something to do with it also. Anyway, I was hanging in the background while Alex was taking pictures, and she called out, “Erica, get in the picture. I don’t care if your hair is wet!” So here we are: Alex, me, Ulf, Lizzy McAllister, and Maddy Marks. Happy bunch!

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And here’s a really nice shot of John and me, with downtown L.A. behind us:

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Fun times. Anyway, work-wise, I dealt with famine for the first half of this year and now I am feasting to the point of gluttony. I get stressed when I feel like I can’t control my workload, but I’d rather be busy than not. Other stuff keeps coming up, appointments need to be made, but I’ll take care of them one at a time in the order of importance. One friend has been asking to meet me for coffee for the past several weeks, and I’ve put him off so many times, apologetically, that I finally decided I’m never going to find time, so I just have to make time. We’re meeting up tomorrow afternoon and catching up. Oh, and I have to break away on occasion to work out.

I miss playing. A lot. But I suppose the other advantage of being busy with work (other than the money) is that I don’t have much time to dwell on it. Even if I did have a play partner right now, I don’t think I’d have time to play with him! (sigh) So, that’s all on hold for now. Life feels a bit unbalanced, but things have a way of righting themselves. I am just going to plow on and hope for the best.

And hey, it’s almost the holidays! (Oh, fuck…)

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.

Toppy chiropractors and birthday wishes

Yes, I’m still seeing my Uber-bossy chiropractor. When I saw him a few weeks ago, I was in the throes of my cold and my body was a mess of knots. Everything he touched hurt. So when I went in last Monday for a tune-up, he asked how I was doing. “Much better than last time,” I replied.

“OK, so just a mild beating today, as opposed to the extreme beating.”

Uh…

I think I’ve mentioned how he has a penchant for putting me in various positions and then commanding, “Don’t you move.” Which drives me crazy. So this last time, I challenged a bit. “You do realize that every time you say ‘don’t you move,’ that makes me want to move, right?”

“Yes, absolutely, because you can’t stand anyone else being in charge.” How does he know?

“Well, it’s just that when someone says ‘don’t you’ do something, that implies that there is a consequence for doing that thing,” I persisted.

“Nope, none at all,” he said cheerfully. While digging his fingers into my left hip and practically making me writhe off the table. “Oooh, yes, hello, that sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Sadistic bastard,” I grumbled. Oh, this guy would be such a formidable top.

“Far be it from me to actually try to tell you to do something,” he went on. And then, for the rest of the appointment, he made a point of politely asking me for everything. “Please roll onto your back.” “Please, may I stretch you now?” “Please hold that position.” “Please allow me to lift you to sitting.” And finally, when he put me on the rolling massage table with ice, he said, “Relax. Or don’t, if you don’t want to! Whatever you want.”

He still refers to me as “little girl” and “tiny person.” I don’t get it; I’m really not that tiny. Although I suppose it’s all relative, since he’s 6′ 3″+ and built like a linebacker.

All titillation aside, I really am glad I found this guy. He doesn’t BS me and tell me there’s a million things wrong with me and that I have to come back every week. As he put it: “I don’t want to see you that often.” Thanks, I love you too. And since I’ve been seeing him, the sciatica that had been plaguing me, shooting down my left leg into my foot, has cleared up. OK, so it’s his elbow on my butt, not his hand. Such is life.

Moving right along — today is the wonderful, talented Dave Wolfe’s birthday! AKA Wolfie, of WolfieToons, Dave has created countless delightful spanking toons over the years, and has made countless people smile and laugh. Besides being a great artist, he’s also one of the sweetest men ever. We have never met in person, but have corresponded online for many a year. He’s compassionate, caring, witty, and an incorrigible punster (do not incorrige him!). I have been lucky enough to be immortalized, Wolfie-style,  as he has created several toons for my various birthdays. But since it’s his birthday, not mine, I’ll post one of my favorite non-birthday creations (and interestingly, it’s non-spanking too). Dave knows I am a bit of an oddball and derive the same joy from rainy days as most people do from sunny ones. So here is his image of me dancing in the rain.

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Do check out his blog, and his immense catalog of drawings, if you haven’t already. Happy birthday, Wolfie! We love you! ♥ ♥ ♥

And happy hump day, y’all.

Great minds think alike

On Wednesday night, Alex, SpankCake and I met for dinner and chat. It was also a belated birthday celebration, since the three of us weren’t able to get together a couple of weeks ago. We’re all so busy lately and these times are precious.

They both came with presents and cards. So, for my betting friends, what are the odds of the two of them independently finding and buying the exact same birthday card? Well, they did.

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In case you’re wondering, the inside reads:

Wait, it’s your birthday? Even better.

There was cake, of course — German chocolate and coconut-lemon. Alex found a vintage magazine in a used bookstore: a mint-condition 1968 issue of Teenset — The “Yellow Submarine Special,” with a full color spread about the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine and all kinds of other cool late 60s rock stuff. Fun! SC gave me a corset, black with a pretty floral print. I wanted to try it on to check the fit; the café had single bathrooms (one for women, one for men), so we piled into the ladies’ room, locked the door and I tried it on — it’s much easier getting into a corset with help! It was a size too big — I don’t have the boobage to fill out the top, so it gapped open. SC said she’d exchange it for me, no problem. Of course, we had to get a picture! People knocked on the door, but hey, let ’em use the men’s room; there’s never a wait for that!

The lighting was poor and we’d been in deep shadow; I was able to lighten it somewhat in photo editing. It’s still a cute shot, no?

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Love love love these women so much!

John was disgruntled that I got to have so much fun (and cake) on his birthday. But I will make it up to him this weekend. Yesterday I baked scratch brownies for him; damn near ruined them, when I got distracted by a text and forgot to take them out of the oven. I was in such a rush to get them out, I burned my forearm on the oven rack. (sigh) Such a klutz! But it’s minor. At least the brownies are OK.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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