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 “friends”

Another visit from Oregon

What happens when you apply makeup, but then end up haplessly screaming and smashing your face in a pillow?

Well, this…

… and then this, an utterly derpy but blissful face, surrounded by walk-of-shame hair.

Yes, it was another delicious spanking session. A wonderful time was had by all.

I arrived at C’s hotel room at 11:30 last Friday morning. We sat and talked for a while, catching up with everything. And then it was time to play. He hadn’t brought many implements this time, just two London Tanner straps. Oh, and a thick wooden brush of some kind, but I took one look at it and just said, “No.” With the way I’d marked the week before, I didn’t think I could take that. (Plus, I didn’t want to.)

C thought it would be fun to take pictures throughout the various stages, rather than just at the end. So this was the “before” picture:

Then a nice, long, thorough OTK warm-up commenced. He brought me up so slowly, I really couldn’t tell when he started ramping things up. I was pleasantly warm and squirmy when he took this:

Just a bit of color. Then things got a bit more serious. His hand is a force to be reckoned with on its own, and when he goes full bore, it’s not for the faint-hearted. (Or the faint-assed.) He was concerned because I was starting to mark already (!!), so he spread it around, moving onto my thighs more. “Little more sensitive there,” he mused. Gee, ya think? Oy vey.

I had no concept of how much time passed, but by the time the OTK/hand portion was done, I was already quite toasty. But I still had the two straps coming…

I realized later that this angle makes my legs look weird — like two drumsticks! Oh well. And yes, we did take a final picture after the straps, but… I think some people were a little squeamish about my marks last week, so I’ll just stop here, photo-wise. 🙂

We then transitioned onto a pile of pillows under my belly and moved onto the strap phase. I don’t know how long that went; it seemed to simply flow into an escalation of sensation, pain and pleasure. My noises escalate too — I start out with small grunts, which grow louder, and when I am reaching my peak, where the pain is almost unbearable but not quite, when my body and mind are challenged and pushed and exhilarated, the grunts morph into a continuous guttural scream, which is when I have to bury my face in the pillow so the cops won’t get called.

I love that point. I love how I feel extreme power in that moment, if that makes any sense. My body is strong and resilient, but I am soft and trusting enough to give myself over in this fashion. It’s my choice, I want it, and a trusted partner is giving it to me, while feeling his own pleasure and power in our connection. Is there anything better?

When I get to my tipping point, I start babbling. Mostly I say “Please” over and over. It’s not “Please stop” or “Please don’t stop.” It’s just “Please,” and I can’t explain it. But that’s my tell. And around that time is when I break down in tears. That is exactly what happened on Friday. I didn’t know where they came from; I hadn’t been feeling particularly weepy that week. But there they were.

And then it was over. In my haze of tears and endorphins, I felt his hands rubbing lotion on me. I was aware of tissues pressed into my hand. It was a long time before I raised my head and spoke again, and he didn’t rush me. He simply curled up next to me and held me close. Let me come down at my own pace. And then we just hung out, cuddling, talking, relaxing. Returning to Earth.

I think I left around 3:30. I had arranged for the day off work, but I still wanted to get a little bit of it done just to stay on top of things. C, with his usual thoughtfulness, checked in with me later that evening, and then again the next morning. My reply:

“Feeling spacey this morning, sleepy, sore, tender. In other words, great! As always, thank you.”

Of course, what goes up, must come down. I’ve been feeling very droppy the past couple of days. But then I hear C saying, “It’s such a joy to come see you,” and I smile.

Thank you, my friend. You are a joy. ♥

So, as I was saying…

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Been a while. So where have I been?

Some people wrote to me to ask if I was okay (and thank you). I just needed to take a few steps back for a while and process some things.

I realize a lot of my readers aren’t in the national spanking community/party scene. I’ve been a part of it for 25 years and the parties/gatherings brought me untold joy. But I think that time may be over.

Last year, there was major upheaval on FetLife and other kinky social media sites. Several women had come forward with stories of consent violations and abuse. It started mostly with the focus on one man (someone I don’t know, BTW), and one by one, women were stepping up with what happened to them. But then it spread into a wave of accusations about party hosts, people who denied that this guy had done bad things, and people who enabled him to continue. More and more names came up, more and more people spoke up.

And then things took a turn. They went from honest and brave revelations of improper behavior to mass attacks and mob mentality. The anger was palpable, the words ugly. Friendships were ruined. A party organizer had to step down. Other organizers were blamed for this and that. And worst of all, it wasn’t enough to try to stay neutral, to hear both sides of all the stories. The outcries of “You’re either with us or against us” and “You people who are silent are supporting the perpetrators” were everywhere. If you didn’t hate so-and-so, you were part of the problem. If you went to such-and-such party anyway, you were enabling rapists. If you didn’t jump on the bandwagon and shove your pitchforks into the accused, you weren’t supporting the victims.

The pain and anger were real. My heart hurt for the people who had been traumatized. But the tarring and feathering blurred the lines. The hatred and finger-pointing tainted the original issues.

John said it would blow over after a while. It didn’t. There are many people I know who won’t go to parties anymore. Others won’t go to this one or that one because of so-and-so. There is such a negative pall over something that used to be so joyous for me.

The parties twice a year in Vegas were our go-to, because we could drive there, lots of our friends came, and we loved the hotel. But now our beloved hotel kicked us out; I have heard it was because of an incident that happened at one of the parties, but I can’t say for sure; I wasn’t there. Several of our friends are no longer going. And honestly, I think I’d rather remember the wonderfully happy time I had in February 2020 and end on that note. If someone starts a party here in Los Angeles, then we’ll consider that. But for now, I believe our national party days are behind us. I may change my mind, but we’ll see. It’s several months until Labor Day.

So. What with all the ugliness that went down, and all the information that was revealed, it was a great deal to process. I had to face some hard truths about the community I loved, about people I’d known for years. And honestly, it hurt like hell. I had to take some time to come to terms with new realities. And while I was doing so, I really didn’t feel like posting here. It felt like the same whine over and over and I figured it was enough already, and that I’d come back when I had something new to say.

By the way… what’s my take on all the stories of abuse incidents? I don’t have one. Because in every one of those instances, there’s one thing in common — I wasn’t there. I don’t know. I never will know. I have my thoughts. But that’s all they are — thoughts. Not facts. Some questions will never be answered. The old expression goes as follows: There are three versions of every story — Version A from one side, Version B from the other side, and the truth. And I just don’t have the wherewithal to sift through it all.

I dunno… I hope things get better. There is a core group of friends we only see twice a year. It makes me very sad to think about never seeing them again.

So yeah, I guess I’ve been “spankless.” But you know what? When you look at the big picture, all the terrible things happening right now, and how truly awful and mean-spirited some people are, there are worse things than being spankless.

Thoughtless.
Brainless.
Classless.
And so on. You get my drift.

And hey, all is not lost. I still get by with a little help from my friends. Like my pal Mr. Woodland, who came over last week. So good to see him! We spent several hours catching up. Of course, because it had been a while, I was de-conditioned, and started marking almost immediately. Within 20 minutes, he was looking at this:

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He was concerned about those spots breaking, so we had to keep the scene relatively short. But it was quite intense nonetheless and left me feeling relaxed and happy.

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And this Friday, my friend from Oregon will be in town! So I’ll be seeing him too. Always a wonderful time there.

So… there may not be any more party reports, sadly. Things have changed too much. Time will tell. Meanwhile, I’ll find what I need. Somehow, I always do.

First Things First

Yeah, I’m still here. As I told people who checked in with me, I said I’d come back when I have something to say, and now I do. But most of it will have to wait a little longer. Like the title says, first things first.

Last week, we lost our friend, author and fellow blogger Devlin O’Neill. His longtime blog (or “blite,” as he called it) was very popular and prolific. But I had a bit more personal experience with him.

In 2005, we were cast together in the Shadow Lane film “Stand Corrected.” Eve had asked us to create the script together, and even though I hadn’t actually met him yet, we’d been in contact through my old MSN board (he was a member there during its heyday) and I was very comfortable talking with him and collaborating over our project.

I remember our trip to Vegas and our shoot well. We were both sick as dogs with bad colds, sucking down decongestants and lozenges like crazy, but we both rallied enough to create a vigorous 57-minute film. (I completely lost my voice as soon as we wrapped it up.) On the long drive, we talked and talked and got to know each other. He had a classic car — I can’t remember what type it was, only that it was cherry red and it was his pride and joy. At a rest stop, we had gotten ice cream and he let me eat it in the car, begging me to not tell his “nieces” about this, because they were strictly forbidden to have any sort of food in his beloved car. The shoot was fun, sickness notwithstanding, and overall it was a happy and memorable experience.

Years later, Devlin contacted me and asked if I would pose for the cover of his latest book, “Spanked In Her Dreams.” I was honored to do so. John took several shots in front of his bedroom window.

I love how the cover came out. But what means a lot more to me was the inscription inside the cover on my copy. ♥

(sigh) Love you too, Dev. Rest well, sir. You were one of the good ones.

Festivus follies

You guys know I’m not into the holidays. When I first started seeing John, Christmas was a huge affair with multiple gatherings — his parents, his siblings, his nieces and nephews, etc. For years, I went to these things… and honestly, I hated them. Dreaded them every year. They felt forced, John’s family was never nice to him, there was too much rich food and way too much alcohol, and I always wanted to pass on it all but couldn’t. Cut to the present: his parents have passed, two of his siblings have moved away, the nieces and nephews have grown and moved on to their own lives, and the one remaining sibling in town is a hopeless drunk with a lecherous husband, and John has pretty much fallen out with them. Hallelujah — free at last.

So, these past few years, I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do for the holidays –absolutely nothing. I send cards, I get gifts for John and a few friends, but that’s about it. A few years ago, John, as a joke, made a Festivus pole from a steel pole he’d found, even attached two pieces of wood at the bottom so it would stand. And from then on, it took on a life of its own. Over the years, a tree skirt and pine cones were added, I wrapped the pole with holiday paper, and John added the topper, a knitted duck in a Santa hat (which he christened the Festiduck). I added the gold tinsel and the beads. So now, each holiday, we get into it, putting up the pole, putting cards and presents under it, and John tacks up other odds and ends of Christmas decor throughout his house.

Behold:

Festivus pole with Festiduck
May be an image of indoor
Is this a reindeer, or a bear with antlers?
May be an image of indoor
Mr. Snowman… bring me some snow…
May be an image of indoor
That’s right — John put up mistletoe still in the box.

But wait, there’s more.

Anyone remember the video on Saturday Night Live, about 12 years ago, the Christmas satire called “D*** In A Box,” with Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg? If somehow you’ve managed not to see or hear that, Google it. It’s hilarious. Anyway… at one point on Christmas night, John left the room for a minute, then he came back in, holding his phone. Blaring from it, I could hear the opening lines of “D*** In A Box,” the guys crooning “Hey girl, I’ve got somethin’ real important to give you…” I looked over, and damn near died laughing. John had taken a rectangular gift box (with wrapping paper on it), cut holes and threaded a shoelace through it, and tied it around his hips, so the box was directly in front of his crotch. And he was dancing and bobbing around with this ridiculous thing along with the video. Oh. My. God.

And yes, I got a picture.

There is no being a Grinch with this goofball. ♥

So, it was a nice day. I got some fun surprises from friends, and got to be with the most important person in my life, and oh! It even rained. Really couldn’t ask for more.

I hope everyone had a good holiday, whatever you chose to do. As 2021 draws to a close, I have several thoughts about this past year, and what’s ahead, but you know… I just don’t feel like talking about them right now. Too depressing. So I’ll let my hero, the incomparable Ruth Bader Ginsburg, speak for me this fine December day.

Happy holidays, y’all.

Somebody that I used to know

Have you seen her? Sometimes I wonder where she went. I look around, look back behind me. Then I realize she’s still here, just not the same as she once was.

Me. At the beginning of this journey. The first picture I ever sent to Eve Howard of Shadow Lane, right before the birth of Erica Scott. Fresh. Excited. Looking forward. So many possibilities.

I have not been posting much lately. Sometimes I think about it. Sometimes I want to. Then I don’t. Because I really don’t have much to say these days that hasn’t already been said a million times.

I had years and years of adventures and stories to share. Milestones. Friendships. Experiences I only dreamed of when I was younger.

I have all my memories. But right now, I am quiet, just pondering them. I have been done shooting for three years. The pandemic put the kibosh on the national parties, and just as they started to return, there was a stream of very ugly admissions from various people that turned the community inside out. Lines were drawn, sides were taken, and a lot of people disappeared. Myself included. I deactivated from FetLife for two months, and only just reactivated yesterday. It’s the same, and yet it isn’t. It used to be a place where I felt like I belonged, where I’d be missed if I were gone. But people come and go all the time now. Attention spans are fleeting. The overall broad scene community seems now to have distilled down into smaller, more local pockets.

I no longer have a regular play partner. I know a couple of men who I am able to see once in a great while for a special treat, but at this time, I do not have a regular source of play. I don’t know of any scene in Los Angeles, any munches. I still try to meet new people, but between the pandemic and just plain getting older (and not to mention being a reclusive introvert), it’s much more of a challenge now.

Times change. I remember years ago, I casually commented on a young woman’s blog because I liked what she wrote. And she went nuts, “SQUEEEEE”-ing and marveling about how “Erica Scott commented on MY blog!!” Recently, I saw another blog post that resonated with me and said so, although I’d never commented on this person’s blog before. The blog owner was unfamiliar with me and commented to that effect. Not meanly, just matter-of-factly. I wanted to reply back, “I used to be somebody.” But I didn’t.

No, this isn’t another one of those “I’m closing this blog” announcements. I did that a few years ago, and a year later, I decided I still had a lot to say and restarted it. And what do I detest, kids? People who make a big thing about leaving, and then don’t leave. Sooo… I am not doing that again. Perhaps this is just to say that my posts will be few and far between. When I feel like I have something to contribute, I will do so. If I ever go to parties again, I’ll write them up. Of course, there will always be the CHoS, because some things never change. People will always write rude, inappropriate things to strangers. Oh, and of course, there will no doubt be a 2021 Christmas carol parody. Just waiting for my creative muse to make her appearance.

I have been called things like “legend” and “icon.” I have also been referred to as a has-been and washed up. I suppose that’s the way it always has been and that won’t change either. I am not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m opinionated, I’m snarky, I’m outspoken. I’m also honest and passionate. Some people hate me. But others love me. And to this day, I’m still getting emails that tell me my encouragement to explore kink without shame enabled people to acknowledge and find what they needed. That means a hell of a lot to me.

So I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here. Just a lot quieter. I don’t need to keep talking. I’ve talked enough. Now is the time to sit back and let the fresh faces and voices have their turn. Allow the Jillian Keenans of the scene to speak their truths. I will chime in when I feel like it would be welcomed or enjoyed.

Oh, there she is. Yes, I know her. ♥ I hope she won’t be forgotten.

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…

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