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 “fantasies”

Vote for me?

So yesterday, as I was trundling along on the treadmill, my mind wandered as it is wont to do, and I had what I consider a brilliant brainchild.

Consider the following:

  • I am one kinky, nasty woman;
  • I speak my mind often and tell it like it is, even though some people would prefer that I STFU;
  • I know zippity squat about how to run a country, but clearly, that doesn’t matter; and
  • I tweet a whole lot (going on 20K now)

I should run for president in 2020!! Not just the first woman, but the first kinky president! Hey, if we can have a PeePee President, why not a Spanko President?

electerica

Imagine the possibilities for slogans!

  • Embrace your inner safe, sane and consensual sadomasochist, America! Spanking pain is temporary; nuclear vaporization is forever!
  • Healthcare that everyone can count on, permanently — no one will piss it away!
  • Erica Scott’s promises are as solid as a frat paddle — with no (loop)holes!
  • Erica Scott will stand with you — since she can’t sit!
  • You can’t have America without Erica!
  • Red is the New Orange!
  • Erica Scott: Make America Black & Blue Again! #MABBA

scenewithjoe

Of course, John would be the First… what? We’re not married, so already, I’m breaking tradition. But so what? We’ve been together for over 20 years; that’s longer than a lot of marriages. (Just ask the upcoming Commander in Cheat.) So, I guess John could be First Switch, Top of your Bottom in Chief. And then there’s my cabinet — oh, so many boxer briefs and panties to fill. But I think I’d start with Paul Kennedy as Spanker of the House, and make Alex Reynolds Secretary of the Posterior. Perhaps Michael Masterson should head up the Lap of Justice Department.

My White House pet would be a giant white dog (she’d have to be white, so I could name her — what else? — Snowflake, and any breed would work except sheepdog). I would train my faithful companion to always hide (or bury) wooden implements. She’d never bite anyone, but she’d growl menacingly whenever she sees someone anything orange.

One of my first acts would be to declare the non-consensual grabbing of pussies to be a capital offense. (Just to be clear, I’m talking about real non-consent, not our type of “oh, please don’t… don’t… don’t stop” consensual non-consent.) And ladies? From now on, no one will be able to get up into your business — unless you want them to, of course!

Tolerant, respectful people — of all nationalities and colors, all religions (or none), all genders (whether born or chosen), all orientations, all sizes and shapes, all ages and income levels — will be treated in turn with tolerance and respect. Those of us who choose not to follow the tried and true societal dictates will not be shamed, but welcomed. None of this bullying/prejudice/discrimination shit on my watch! This is America, not AmeriKKKa. (And yes, your leader will be spanked often for her shameless word play.)

I would redesign the Oval Office, of course. My office would need corners. All staffers would be armed with guns — squirt guns. And corporal punishment would replace capital punishment (but only for vanilla offenders, since kinky offenders would like it way too damn much).

What do you think, readers? Can you add any ideas? Would you vote for me? Come on, I couldn’t possibly be any worse than what’s coming. You’ve got nothing to lose but your inhibitions — and possibly your underwear. 😀

Well, is it?

Two weeks ago, I had an appointment with my chiropractor, but when I showed up, his colleague said he’d already left. Well! It turned out he’d had an emergency with his dog, and he apologized profusely, saying it was not like him to forget an appointment and the next one would be on him.

So I showed up last week, he apologized again, took some extra time torturing me, and then said afterward, “Don’t you dare try to give me any money.”

Is it incredibly perverse of me that my stomach lurched and I had a strong desire to answer,

“Really? What if I do?”

The last time I had this type of fascination with a professional who inflicts therapeutic pain was my personal trainer, many years ago. Stay tuned.

 

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