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 “extreme scenes”

We’re the same, and yet we’re different, part 952

Warning: Controversy and opinions ahead.

Since there are so many photo sites out there in the spankosphere, one is exposed to an infinite amount of spanking pictures on any given day. I happen to belong to a private spanking group on Facebook, of all places, and the group leader makes a point of posting all different types of pictures, for the widest variety of appeal. Recently, within a week of each other, two photos were posted, and they elicited fully opposite reactions from me, quite extreme ones. One, I loved. I couldn’t stop looking at it. I reposted it on FetLife and asked where it was from. I looked at it again. And again. I squirmed in my chair and couldn’t concentrate on my work. Yes, it was that intense. The second one, I hated. Passionately. Everything about it. It made me angry.

So I got to thinking about how different we all are, and how these pictures touch things in some of us and trigger things in others. And how one person can love a photo and the next person will loathe it.

I’m going to post both pictures and explain why I feel the way I do about them.
This is not, repeat, not a post claiming that my likes are better than your likes, that so-and-so’s scenes are wrong and my preferences are the correct ones, etc. Because I invite anyone who wishes to comment to tell me honestly about how you feel. I’m curious what makes people tick. It’s part of my never-ending fascination with This Thing We Do.

So, without further blathering on my part, here’s the first shot, the one I loved.

hotspankingpic

Yes, it’s clearly posed. Someone on FetLife thought it was from a commercial (and vanilla) photo shoot for lingerie or something like that. Yeah… if the person who conceived of this photo setup is vanilla, I’m a virgin.

What do I love? Everything. The lighting. The attractiveness of both participants. The blissful smile on the woman’s face, the sweet curve of her bottom, the sweep of her hair. His open shirt, his hand on her butt cheek, and the sexy, hungry way he’s gazing down at her. To me, this photo is art. This is something I would actually want framed and hanging on my wall. It’s gorgeous. And it’s so damned sexy, it gives me goosebumps. And other bodily reactions.

Next, the second shot.

grosshorriblespankingpic

Obviously, this is from RGE Films. I hadn’t heard of them, so I looked them up. They specialize in extreme pain and humiliation. OK, fine, to each their own. But that notwithstanding, this picture really pisses me off.

First: how much torture is one body supposed to withstand? Is it really necessary to have extreme caning, figging, soaping, AND kneeling naked on a hard floor all at once? One, maybe two, but not all four. Overkill.

Second, and one of my big pet peeves in the scene: Terrible technique. On both women, the right ass cheek is torn all to hell, way more than the left. Why do tops do this? I get it, I know it happens by accident sometimes in a session. But come on. They can see everything that’s happening to the bottom’s body. They can see that way more damage is being incurred on one side. If they can’t see it, then they shouldn’t be spanking without glasses. If they can see it and don’t care… well. I will censor my thoughts there. Besides being excruciating, I find the asymmetry to be aesthetically displeasing. But that could just be my OCD talking.

And finally, I freaking loathe this creep hovering over them, with his scruffy bald head in the viewers’ faces. He’s probably sneering at them. He just seems… mean. I don’t mind strict tops. I don’t mind tough tops. But I don’t like mean ones.

So, here’s where it gets interesting. Because I know very well that someone else will look at this pair of pictures and see the opposite. They’ll think the first picture is sissified, romanticized, fake, too pretty. Spanking Lite. Kink viewed through rose-colored glasses. And that the second photo is raw, real, and powerful. That it appeals to the dark side, to those who crave real punishment, real pain.

I like darkness too. I just think this photo is a poor example of it.

What do you think, readers? How do these two pictures make you feel? I am genuinely interested in varied viewpoints, because, like I said at the beginning, I find this utterly fascinating.

The more I experience…

…the less I know, it seems. Specifically, about implements.

implements

The above photo contains but a mere sampling of what’s out there to use on a spanking bottom. I’ve probably felt them all at some point or another. You’d think after 20+ years, I’d be an expert on implements and how they feel. But, aside from some general knowledge, I remain woefully in the dark. Which doesn’t help my ass any.

This post was precipitated by my getting together with an old FetLife friend for coffee last week, someone I haven’t seen in seven years. We chatted it up for a couple of hours and of course the subject of implements came up. He showed me a picture on his phone of his “punishment paddle” and I immediately said that would be a hard limit for me.

I’ve often said I don’t like wood and I prefer leather. However, “wood” is ridiculously general — it doesn’t account for the myriad types, thicknesses, etc. All wooden implements are not created equal. All woods are not created equal. I have heard many times that some are lighter, some are dense, some are quite tolerable and others are practically unbearable. But damned if I know which is which.

I do know that thick, heavy frat-style wooden paddles are a hard limit. When I said nay to my friend’s photo, he asked why. I said it’s just pure pain to me, no pleasure whatsoever, and the pain is BAD. I can’t absorb the impact; it thuds me down to the bone. “Even if it’s lower on the butt? Maybe people are hitting you too high with it,” he suggested. Nope. Even if it’s on the fleshiest part of my sit spots, I feel this horrible, heavy thud deep within my sit bones, and it’s wretched. I’m a tad more willing about other wood, like lighter paddles, hairbrushes and spoons, but even those are hard for me to take. I will take them on video a lot more willingly than in a private scene that’s for mutual pleasure, because they really don’t pleasure me.

So, generally, one would think leather is the ticket for me, right? Not necessarily. Because all leather implements aren’t created equal either, damn them. Thickness comes into play again, as well as wear. A buttery soft, well worn flexible strap feels entirely different from a stiff brand new one. Straps can run the gamut from a sensual snap to sheer agony. And I can’t tell just from looking at them which it’s going to be. I have made godawful mistakes in choosing implements at parties before: sometimes the most innocent looking items can be utter torture. Conversely, sometime the items that look the meanest can be fairly innocuous.

I like leather implements in general. But one of the worst things I ever felt was a double razor strap. Yeah, it was flexible. It was also thick, very heavy and very thuddy. I have made many people laugh by saying it felt like being hit with a side of beef.

And speaking of flexibility — if the give of leather feels so much more acceptable to me, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that other materials with give would also work?

Again, not necessarily.

I recall a scene at a party, many years ago, when I was playing with a top I knew well, and I knew the feel of his implements. He had a strap I loved to hate, and he wielded it with precision and evil intent. After I’d played a prank on him, he put a blindfold on me and then proceeded to strap the bejesus out of me. From the start, it hurt like hell, like nothing I remembered. I screamed and squawked and fussed, and he laughed at me. “What’s wrong?” he taunted. “It’s just my strap! You’ve felt it before! What’s the matter, are you losing your tolerance?” I gritted my teeth and bore it, took all he gave, even though my mind was screaming, “What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I take this? Why is this hurting so much?? Aaaaaaaagh!” Perhaps I was having an off night? A really off night?

It wasn’t until the next day that I found out from his girlfriend that the strap was NOT leather — it was rubber. Hence the blindfold, so I couldn’t see it. Grrrrr. I was marked like crazy, too. Deep bruises.

So now rubber is pretty much a hard limit as well. Although I guess Delrin is a sort of rubber, or similar? I will take a Delrin cane, although they hurt like a bitch.

Even canes don’t all feel the same. If I say in a general statement that canes are OK to use on me, what am I letting myself in for? I’ve never experienced a Singapore-style cane, nor do I want to. But a proper rattan caning, with a thin whippy one, in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing? Intense, but in the right head space, amazing.

I have felt everything, I think. From canes to belts to brushes to carpet beaters to tawses to crops to paddles to whips. I used to pride myself on what I could take. Nowadays, I find my desires changing. I still like to play hard… but only, ONLY if it’s someone whom I know is going to be measured, even, and careful. I no longer have any tolerance for stray shots–too high, too low, wrapping to the sides. I don’t like unevenness in cheekage. These days, I appreciate accurate and skilled players more than ever. The types I can trust with anything in their hands, no matter what it is, and know I’ll be safe and given just the right amount of pain. It’s a rarity, I’m afraid. Tops can be wonderful and kind and sensitive and skillful and many wonderful things, but still not adept with all the toys.

Perhaps now that I’m older, now that I’ve been doing this for a while, I don’t feel like I have to prove myself? (And to whom… to the scene, or to my own self?) I no longer have to show the world that I can get my ass beat all to hell with everything but the weed whacker. Or maybe I just don’t want that much pain and damage anymore? I really don’t know. But it does make me wish I understood the makings, the physics of implements better, so I could make the best choices for my play. Because, like everything else, I want quality over quantity.

But of course, there’s always hands. 🙂

Speaking of everything but the weed whacker — remember this?

dscf4121

Anyone else find they have been fooled by implements before? Or that something they used to like is no longer acceptable? Vice versa? Has anyone’s tolerance levels changed?

Epic rants — yes, plural

You lucky people. I have two things that are pissing me off right now. No, it’s not anything about the holidays, and it’s not stupid gross food. One issue is on topic, and the other is not. But both have gotten under my skin lately and it’s time to release a bit. Warning: controversy ahead. If you’d just as soon skip it, I understand.

Last Friday, I saw two pictures that had just been put up on FetLife. The first was an extreme closeup of one butt cheek, with the skin broken and bleeding. The caption read: “Results of a proper caning.” Really? And then the next photo was the same butt, mercifully a little farther back but still pretty damn close up, so you could see both cheeks, which were not just red, but had white spots, the beginnings of bruises, and two spots that were bleeding. And that caption read: “A proper bare-bottom belting.”

Proper? According to whom, pray tell? And of course, we viewers are left to infer that anything less than a spanking/strapping/caning resulting in blood is somehow less than “proper.”

I know, I know, I’ve talked about this before. I’m sick of death of the comments, the implication that bottoms who don’t get trashed beyond recognition are wimps. “That’s not red enough.” “I could have done a better job.” “Looks like a decent warm-up, now bring on the spanking.” Fuck these people! When did it become not enough to simply have a nice red backside? Why is it that with some folks, bottoms that look like they’d been plunked on a George Foreman grill, turned up high, are the holy grail??

Hmm. I’ve been caned dozens of times over the years, by many tops. But I’ve never had a cane break my skin. What a shame that I’ve never had it done properly, huh? (massive eye roll)

This follows along with the issue that John Osborne and I felt compelled to shoot a harsher, more intense video, because viewers were bitching and snarking about our last two being “too light.” What is with this freaking blood-lust going on with spanking video watchers? So OK, we shot a video where John was punitive, and I shed tears. It was well done and I trust John, and I felt comfortable going there with him. Still, it’s irksome that we had to go there, to cave in and cater to the damn barbarians out there. I get it, though. If you’re in the business of selling video, you need to do what sells. But for God’s sake, stop criticizing people’s work. If you don’t like a video because it’s lighter than you care for, then go watch something else. But don’t try to shame and ridicule people’s efforts just because they fall short of your desires for rear carnage.

Here’s my gripe, in a nutshell. You want to play hard? Have at it. You want to bleed? Knock yourself out. If that floats your boat, then you can deal with the aftermath, and more power to you. But goddammit, don’t try to make others feel like what they’re doing isn’t good enough, or “proper” enough, because their flesh isn’t ravaged to your liking. What happens when newbies see these photos, claiming this sort of extreme is “proper”? I can see it now: inexperienced tops thinking they’re pussies, and they need to up their game in order to create these torn-up asses. And naive bottoms thinking they are “less than” because they don’t take this degree of punishment, and therefore should feel some sort of scene shame. Ridiculous.

Can’t we just play like we want to play, and leave words like “proper” and “real” and “true” out of it?

Ugh.

OK, that’s one. The next one is bound to piss some people off, and I’m sorry but not sorry. I don’t go out of my way to offend, but sometimes, you know, I just can’t avoid it.

Found this little gem on Facebook, of all places:

gunsvag

It’s true. The NRA and the 2nd Amendment advocates fight to the death (literally) against gun controls/stricter gun laws, but when it comes to women and what they do with their own bodies, oh, that’s everyone’s effing business.

I am not anti-gun. I don’t think guns should be eliminated. But clearly, with so many psychos out there shooting people, with terrorists killing groups of innocent folks, things are out of control. There needs to be something, and I don’t know what it is, but we can’t keep going on like this. But for everyone who says something needs to be done about guns and the fact that far too many nuts can get their hands on them, there’s another who says gun control is not the answer, and we just need more guns. That the people in Paris should have had guns. That the Jews in the Holocaust should have had guns, for Christ’s sake. That we should have guns in school classrooms.

This kind of killing goes on and on and on, and somehow, it’s left unregulated. Men, women, children. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, spouses, all manner of loved ones. Meanwhile, women are vilified and shamed and criminalized because they choose to expel a tiny splotch of ectoplasm that is undeveloped and completely unviable. This is a sin. This is murder. This must be eliminated. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

Recently, our country’s Senate did two things: they refused to pass a bill that would prevent people on the no-fly list from getting guns. At the same time, they passed a bill that would defund Planned Parenthood. Yeah, that makes sense too. Let’s not control the crazies with guns that destroy lives, but by all means disallow women from choosing whether or not they give birth.

You know, I don’t even have a dog in this fight. I am way past the child-bearing age. And when I was that age, I made damn sure that I wouldn’t have any, because I knew I didn’t want them and I didn’t want to deal with birth control. But it still pisses me off that younger women out there might lose their freedoms, and if not those freedoms per se, then all the funds available to make their choices. Look…it’s not that I’m a big advocate of abortion. I’m much more of an advocate of people being responsible and smart with their bodies, and not getting pregnant unless they want to. But I have always felt strongly about the right to choose. And I also happen to think it’s a sin in itself to bring a child into the world when you’re neither financially nor emotionally equipped to raise it properly. When I was in eighth grade (a long-ass time ago), I wrote a school paper titled: “Abortion: Better No Life Than Unwanted Life.” I got an A. And I still believe that. How come it’s OK to go ahead and have the kid, just to abuse and neglect it, or not give it the opportunities it deserves because it has a passel of siblings that were also unplanned?

So here’s my solution for the gun-loving anti-abortionists: Every time you see a woman about to have an abortion, shoot her! That way, you 1. get to use your precious guns; 2. prevent an abortion; and 3. eliminate a killer. Win-win-win! Of course, you’re also killing an unborn baby along with its murderous mom, but hey, collateral damage, right?

Yes, that was written with tongue firmly crammed in cheek, and a series of swallows against vomiting in disgust.

Yeah, I’m pissed off. You know why I rant? You know why I blog and vent? Because I can. Because I choose to blow off steam this way, instead of going out and taking my frustrations out on innocent victims. Because I know how to channel my anger like a sentient and sane adult. I’m just so damn sick of people who kill and hurt and maim and do stupid shit to other people. And I’m sick of the people who cheer those fuckers on, one way or another.

(sigh) I know this writing isn’t going to change a thing. But sometimes, I need to do it anyway. Because if I keep it all inside, I just get depressed, and that really sucks. I am trying to keep my sanity during times where there is insanity all around me.

Rants over, for now. I will try to be entertaining next time.

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