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 “Monday”

What was that reason again?

Oh, that’s right, I forgot. ST never needs a reason. If he doesn’t have one, he makes one up. (put-upon eye roll)

Tonight, he was in quite the evil mood. Had a new and special way to mess with my head; he kept giving me light little taps with the implements, running them over my skin, brushing them against me, more light taps. And then when I’d least expect it, WHAM! I never knew when to brace myself, when to take a deep breath, when to hunker down. And that’s exactly what he wanted.

At one point, he took soooooo excruciatingly long, teasing me with the strap, that I finally blurted, “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He laughed. “Am I boring you?

Before I could answer, he gave me several fast and hard whacks. “Was that boring?”

“I never said anything was boring!” I shrieked. Damn these tops! I can get myself into plenty of trouble without them putting words in my mouth!

Later, over the ottoman, he started up with the taps and brushes again. “Take that!” he teased. “Bet you won’t do that again… whatever that was.”

“AHA!” I yelped in triumph. “I knew it! You don’t even know what you’re spanking me for — you just make shit up!”

No more tapping. “You wanna take that back?”

“I can’t take it back! It’s said! You can’t unsay things!”

“I suggest you try. Say it backwards.”

Oh, good grief. “UP SHIT MAKE JUST YOU!” I yelled.

Thank goodness he was satisfied with that; I didn’t have to actually say the words backward. Uoy tsuj ekam tihs pu sounds like a foreign language.

He switched gears somewhere in the middle; went from playful to his more sinister side. His voice deepened, roughened; his hand fisted in my hair. When his fingernails dragged across tenderized flesh, I had to bury my face in the pillow.

“Please!” I cried. “Please, please!”

“Are you begging me?” he murmured. “I like it when you beg. I like it when you struggle, too.” And I was doing plenty of that, writhing all over the ottoman. My mind screamed, “When is he going to stop??” My body sent a clear and opposing message: “Don’t stop.”

I don’t know why tonight’s photos don’t show the red. Because it was most definitely there.

Finally, I felt cool, smooth wood moving back and forth, back and forth across my cheeks. “You know what’s next, don’t you?” I nodded.

“Ten more.” I nodded again.

“They’re going to be hard and fast.” I moaned, clutched the pillows.

“Are you ready?” One more nod. But still, he didn’t strike. More caressing, back and forth. I waited, shaking, legs twitching. “You sure you’re ready?”

“I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” I managed to say.

He delivered. So fast, I couldn’t count. But I knew after 10, he’d stop.

Several minutes later, he asked me how I was. “Spacy,” I murmured. I was bonelessly relaxed, mush-brained, and had the urge to giggle. Perfect.

We talked for a long time afterward, and it ended up being later than his usual time to leave. So guess who was in trouble for that?? Of course, he had to test all the toys before he put them away. Just to “make sure they still worked,” he said.

“This is so wrong!” I protested. “Next week I’ll remind you to leave on time, and you’ll tell me I’m throwing you out and I’m a rude hostess!”

He didn’t deny it. Rather despicable, isn’t he? And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

In other news: VOD (Video on Demand) site just put up its very first clips from Spanking Court! In Spanking Court Cases Vol. 1, there are two scenes, and Scene 1 is one of mine. 🙂 It’s the one where the Court Disciplinarian and I face the judge, I have to confess to the name I called the C.D., and I get 200 wooden paddle strokes (and break down and cry). Scene 2 is with Alex Reynolds, the friend I met last week. I believe she cries in her scene as well. So this is a great clip for those who enjoy tears. (I wonder if it’s the clip of hers where she broke the C.D.’s paddle? hee hee)

Here’s a photo, speaking of red — probably the most marked you will ever see me:

That’s Judge Spanks, AKA Feenix on Fetlife. You can read all about the clip (and download it, if you so desire) here.

Two-and-a-half weeks to BBW!

I forgive you, Tim Burton

(No, I don’t. I just said that ’cause ST insisted. Explanation to follow shortly.)

OK, I promised a more fun blog tonight; enough of this depressing life stuff for a while. I had doubts about whether or not I’d be able to deliver, but ST distracted me and made me laugh — exactly what I needed.

So what’s this about Tim Burton? Well. I’m not going to go into it a whole lot tonight; in the future, I will posting the mother of all rants, but I’m not ready for that yet. In a nutshell, here’s the story: Y’all know how impassioned I am about Dark Shadows. And you’re all no doubt familiar with Tim Burton, the man who has created all those bizarro movies over the years (some good, others dreadful). For years (literally), there has been talk about how he and Johnny Depp were collaborating on a Dark Shadows movie. Apparently Depp is a huge DS fan and has wanted to play the vampire Barnabas Collins for most of his life. Long story short, the film has finally become a reality. It opens in May, but the trailer came out about a week-and-a-half ago, along with the official movie poster.

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have taken a much-beloved cult classic, a gothic horror soap opera, and turned it into a comedy. A campy, cheesy spoof of the show, with a vampire from the 1700s being released from a coffin into the 1970s (complete with disco, and Depp’s character freaking out when he sees a television). While the original Barnabas looked like everyone else (so he could blend in and keep the secret of his vampirism), Depp’s Barnabas has thick, pasty-white makeup on, with blood-red lips and dark rings around his eyes. He looks like a circus freak. Or Michael Jackson.

What a viral firestorm. You have the camp on one side, the tweens, the Twilight fans, the Burton-Depp-ites, who think it looks hilarious and can’t wait to see the movie. Then there’s the other camp — the die-hard fans of the original who think this reinvention is a travesty. Twitter, Facebook and several forums have been buzzing with this controversy. And guess which camp I’M in?

It started when I first saw the trailer and went berserk. Then I started finding the various forums and posting on those. And finally, I found kindred spirits on Twitter and I have been tweeting bitchy, snarky comments about the movie and what I think of Burton & Co. ever since. Many have “favorited” and retweeted me. Others probably think I’m a complete pain in the ass and need a life.

An article in yesterday’s L.A. Times Calendar section fanned the flames: it was about the film and the writer’s tone toward the original show was rather condescending. Tim Burton was quoted as saying that technically, the original was “actually awful.” Some fan! I was so pissed off, I wrote an email to Calendar Letters (let’s see if they publish it). One of the stars of DS, Kathryn Leigh Scott, didn’t care for the article either, and she blogged about it (I commented to her, but didn’t include my blogsite link out of discretion). I tweeted my fool head off about it today. An example of my tweets? “So Tim Burton thinks the original Dark Shadows was awful? Mr. Burton, you can bite me. And not my neck, either.”

So what does this have to do with tonight? Connect the dots, kids. I got taken to task for being such a “trouble-maker” and “wreaking havoc all over the Internet.” Oh, good grief.

“It’s just a movie!” he said, making his point (whatever the hell that was) with the Spanking Buddy.

“It is NOT!” I screeched in indignation. “It’s a desecration of my childhood memories!” My melodrama didn’t seem to faze him.

It got progressively more ridiculous as the scene wore on, with ST saying that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp probably saw my tweets and are highly insulted, and Johnny Depp probably wants to come over and spank me. (I didn’t find that notion at all unpleasant, as long as he doesn’t wear that stupid makeup.) I snapped that Burton and Depp have better things to do than to monitor my tweets.

ST also thought I was judging too much on just a trailer and I should see the movie. “Never!” I hollered. “Not in the theater, not on Netflix, not on DVD. They’d have to pay ME to watch it.”

“You’re like a child who won’t try her peas!” he scolded. “You should try things before you decide you don’t like them.” Hey, if Tim Burton or Johnny Depp want to serve me peas, I’ll eat them. But I’m not losing two hours of my life to that piece of dreck.

Long, long battle of wills, kiddies. Finally, ST had to concede that nothing he could do would stop me from continuing with my tweets and other postings, or change my mind about the new film. But really, I should be nicer to Burton and Depp. After all, it’s the movie I hate, not them, per se. So… I had to count out 25 strap strokes and after each one, say, “I forgive Tim Burton and Johnny Depp.”

Yes, really.

I was obedient, counting out each one and repeating the phrase. But after #25, I added (very loudly), “But their movie SUCKS!!!”

I had to have the last word, didn’t I? I mean, we’re talking principle here.

(And yes, I know I’m being utterly obsessive and silly about this, but you ain’t heard nothin’ yet.)

Anyway, here I am, holding the paper with that damned article:

Notice that header, “Playing with Dark Shadows”? That’s exactly what those buttheads did. And here’s what I think of it:

I’ve already tweeted the second picture. :-Þ

All silliness aside — tonight, as always, ST managed to give me what I needed. Last week was about intensity. Tonight was about lightening up, having some laughs and just forgetting all the BS for a couple of hours.

What more could a bottom girl want, really? (Well, besides a little more respect for her show, but whatever…)

A kiss is just a kiss… Apparently not!

You guys could have called this one, right? I got in trouble with ST over that little kiss on the Spanking Court clip. (heavy sigh)

He hadn’t even seen the clip, but he read about it. Funny how these things escalate. Suddenly I was “the girl who goes around kissing men on video.”

“I beg your pardon? Goes around? It was one quick little peck, all of two seconds, no tongue or anything like that! You’ll see!” He still didn’t approve. I heard all about his disapproval while I was over his lap on the couch.

“It’s not like I just sprang that on them!” I protested. “It was pre-planned and pre-approved! I made sure everyone was OK with it!”

“Yeah? Whose idea was it?”

“Uh…. mine. But they liked it! Everyone was OK with it! I especially wanted to make sure Dana was OK with it.”

“Did you make sure John was OK with it?”


“Well, no,” I said, “but he didn’t mind!” (OK, so after I came home from that shoot, he did tease the hell out of me over it. But that’s not minding.)

“Oh, so you can just kiss another man whenever you feel like it? All right, I guess I’m going to get a big kiss after this, then.”

“What??” I blurted. “Guess again!”

“Oh, I SEE! I’m not good enough to kiss, huh?” Meanwhile, that strap was getting harder and faster every minute. And I was digging myself in deeper.

“Fine!” I snapped, pushing myself up off his lap and onto my knees. Then I did the exact same thing I’d done with the Disciplinarian — grabbed ST’s face in both my hands and gave him a smooch on the mouth. Then I flopped back down. “Happy now??”

“No! I want tongue!”

LOL! “Too bad! You’re not getting any!”

Shortly after that, we moved from the couch to the ottoman, so he could get a better swing. (shudder) And swing he did. I actually clamped both hands over my mouth, because the urge to scream was so strong. By the time I felt the cool, smooth wood of the paddle he always uses for the finale, I was half out of my head. Making incoherent sounds. No tears this time, just my body singing with pain.

That last 10 damn near shot me through the ceiling.

After some leisurely aftercare with lotion, he asked, “So, are we going to watch the video?” Of course. Why not… figured I’d already been spanked, right?

We watched the full clip. Unlike John with all his cheering and caterwauling, ST watched quietly and intently. And when it ended, I was right back on the couch. “What is THIS for?” I bawled.

“For showing it to me! And for being so proud of it!”

Big meanie.

He kept insisting what a naughty girl I was, until I pointed out that if I were good, there would be no reason for him to come here every week, and what would he do with his Monday nights?

“Lots of things,” he asserted. “I could have gotten so much done by now. I could be a millionaire, head of a huge corporation.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes! I do my best thinking on Mondays.”

“Really?” I said brightly. “You could have fooled me.”

Damn, I’m stupid sometimes.

Ah well, it was worth it. But you know, I DO learn. He was mimicking the rapid-fire back-and-forth technique that the Disciplinarian had used with the paddle. I was tempted to point out, “Monkey see, monkey do.” But I refrained.

I don’t suppose I’ll get any credit for that, either. 🙂

I forgot to post any pictures last Friday when I wrote about the clip, so here’s one:

In other news: My dear friend Craig, of “Dark Musing” fame, was kind enough to post a review of my book here. I know he’s been insanely busy lately, so his taking the time to write this means a lot to me. Thank you, Craig.

Can’t believe Late Bloomer has already been out for nearly seven months! Now’s just as good a time as any to post a little reminder: If you’ve read my book and you enjoyed it, please take a minute to add a little review on Amazon, here. And if you haven’t gotten it yet — welllllll. I hope you’ll consider doing so. 🙂

Sweet dreams, ST.

Just call me Rush

No, I’m not a big fat malevolent blowhard. But, like Mr. Limburger, I do have a big mouth that gets me in hot water sometimes. 🙂

As I’d mentioned, I was overdue. And I think ST was overdue to top as well; he’d had a crappy week dealing with the trouble and expense of his truck. So there was an edgy sense of anticipation between us when he first walked in, and we wasted little time with preliminary chit-chat.

Once we were in the bedroom and I was over his lap, he asked what kind of mischief I’d been up to in the past week. I insisted I hadn’t been up to any. “Yeah,” he said, “because you’ve got restraining orders against you!”

Well, I like that! Just a couple of weeks ago, he was on MY side. “You said that it was OK to defend myself,” I protested.

“It is — but it’s not OK to engage with douchebags!”

I don’t know what possessed me. I opened my mouth and heard this come out: “But I engage with you!”

Oh, Christ. Did I really say that? There was a split second while those words hung in the air, and then he practically tore off my shorts and panties. “Warm-up is over,” he growled, grabbing for his bag.

The next several minutes are a blur of pain and scolding. “You think that was a good idea, talking to me like that?” “You going to say something like that again?” Normally, I keep position fairly well, save for my one errant foot flipping up. But this time, I kicked and squirmed and struggled so hard, he put me in a leg-lock. I think that’s the first time he’s ever done that.

“You need this, don’t you! Spanking cures everything. It even cures amnesia.” Huh? Amnesia? As if he could read my mind, ST added, “It seems you’ve forgotten how to be nice to people. Haven’t you!”


Yeah, I know I was just kidding with him. But I felt ashamed anyway. Of all the people to insult, even teasingly — this wonderful, dependable guy. This suddenly felt very real, both physically and emotionally.

“I’m sorry!” I wept. “You’d better be,” he said, not stopping. “And I’m not done making you sorry, either. Am I?”


I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to cry and hurt and gasp for breath. I wanted to be pushed. He knew it.

We’d barely started here. You can see I’m fisting the bedclothes already.

I was actually marking a little. What does Dana call these, strawberries?

I don’t know how long the spanking lasted; probably not as long as it seemed. But he packed a whole lot into a short time.

I continued crying after he finished, long after he soothed me with lotion and pressed tissues into my hand. I was embarrassed to raise my head, knowing I looked runny and drippy and smeary-eyed, so I kept my face buried.

He never pushes me to look at him, thank goodness. He just waits patiently, rubbing my back and smoothing my wild hair.

I snuggled closer to him, but didn’t speak for quite a while. When I finally did, the first thing I whispered was, “You know I wouldn’t insult you for real, don’t you?”

I felt him chuckle; he said yes. I know he knew. But I needed to hear it anyway. Then he added, “If you did, you’d never sit again.”

I laughed. That felt delicious, after all the tears.

Later, we played some more, in our usual lighter vein (lighter in mood, that is, not in intensity!). I really need to come up with a better way of storing my own implements. I loop a bunch of them onto a hanger, and then when I try to pull one off, they all come off and fall on the floor. Then, of course, he says we have to use them all!

No wonder I was pouting.

And no, he didn’t beat me with the wire hanger! It just ended up on the bed. Along with nearly my entire Cane-iac collection. (groan) Even though it was just five strokes with each toy, I was well tenderized at that point.

I believe I will sleep peacefully and dreamlessly tonight.

Did I mention that he spanked me a third time when we were downloading the pictures from his camera? Good lord. I hope we don’t skip a week again anytime soon. 🙂

Thank you, sweetheart.

Deja Vu all over again

The Valentine’s Day corset, revisited! ST was able to exchange the small for a medium, no problem. Oh, and he found something out while he was back at Frederick’s. Turns out the corset unhooks after all.

No, not in the front, which was where I searched for hooks. But all down one side, hidden in the seam, are hook-and-eyes. Last week’s epic struggles to get me into that thing weren’t necessary. Oops.

(blushing) See, told you I’m unsophisticated about corsets.

So this one I was able to get into myself, although I did enlist ST’s help in hooking it and then tying up the back. And it fit perfectly!

He watched while I pulled on the stockings and buckled my shoes, snapping candid photos. He likes to do that. And I end up deleting most of them, because I don’t like how I look. However, every now and then, one comes out pretty well, I think:

A little something for the legs and feet folks. 😀

Of course we had to take one from the back, just so you could see how much better this one fit:

Enough of that. We had to get down to business.

I’ve been in a different place the last few sessions; a quieter version of myself. Hard to believe, I know. But I haven’t really felt like bantering or sassing as much, not once we get past warmup. Not sure why; I just want to feel. To get lost in sensation; hear nothing but my own breathing, my own moans, the cracks of his hand and the implements.

I don’t remember what he did, or in what order. I don’t care. I just know I went someplace with him and I didn’t want to come back. It took me a very long time to open my eyes and lift my head.

He was patient. He was in no hurry either.

Eventually I returned, and he hunkered down next to me on the chair. We listened to the music playing. My favorite local radio station has been airing a special program for the past week or so: a selection of 2000 songs from their library, played in alphabetical order, no repeats. Tonight, they were well into the S’s and “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” by Pink Floyd was playing.

I like to try guessing what comes next. Sometimes I’m spot on, but I couldn’t come up with the next song to save my life. Or my ass, as it happened. Because ST said if I couldn’t guess the next song, he’d spank me all through it. Aggggghhhh!

Shine? Shining? Shirt? Shiver? Perhaps no more songs with Shi, but one with Sho? I was blanking. As the song wound to a close, he kept prompting me, “You’d better come up with something! It’s almost over!” But it was no use.

Then the opening chords of the next song began, and I cussed mightily. DAMMIT! “Shiny Happy People” by REM. I hate that stupid song. No wonder I couldn’t think of it.

I hate it even more, now. 😦  Never realized how @#$%ing long it is.

However, I was able to come up with the song after that. Yay me!

It was “Ship of Fools” by the Doors, by the way. Yes, I’m easily entertained.

When ST was leaving, I thanked him once again for the beautiful corset, saying it was very generous of him. He leered at me, his eyes leisurely wandering from shoulder to hip. “I didn’t buy it for you,” he smirked.

Oh, yes you did, darlin’. You bought it for both of us. 🙂

Hope everyone had Presidents’ Day off!

Happy (almost) Valentine’s Day ♥

So why does a cynical curmudgeon like me love Valentine’s Day, you ask? Simple. It’s that Late Bloomer thing again. Many, many Valentine’s Days spent alone when I was young, gorging myself on See’s Candy and crying. Hating all the damned ads and commercials, all the pretty displays in the malls. Feeling like Charlie Brown. (“I know nobody loves me; why do we have to have Valentine’s Day to emphasize it?”)

Then I met John… and I’ve loved Valentine’s Day ever since. 🙂 Yeah, I know it’s commercial. I don’t care.

My sweetie is still sick and injured, but he sent me roses — a whole week early! He figured I’d be more surprised that way, and I was. I’m hoping we can celebrate this coming weekend, if he feels better.

But in the meantime, I had a lovely time tonight with my toppy Valentine, ST. He had quite the nice surprise for me as well.

After he arrived and sat down, he pulled over his toy bag and started unzipping it. Hmmm; guess we’re going to skip the small talk, huh? But then he said, “Well, what have we here?” and he pulled out a bright red Frederick’s of Hollywood shopping bag. !!!!

I love Frederick’s. VS is nice, but I like Frederick’s so much more. Looking inside the bag, I first noticed a package of black thigh-high stockings, fishnet, with a seam up the back and lace tops. Gorgeous! There was also something bundled in black tissue paper, which I eagerly opened. Ohhhh, my. It was a red-and-black lace corset, with black spaghetti straps and garters attached.

I’ve never had a corset, so this was another first for the late bloomer. I’ve tried them on, but I never would let John buy me one, protesting that they’re too expensive. I’d make jokes, saying I enjoyed breathing. But this was exquisite. Came with a little matching g-string, too. The kind of thing I’d ooh and aah at dreamily in a store window, but would never buy for myself.

We did have a little comedy of errors getting me into my new outfit, however. Too bad we didn’t film it; it was pretty hilarious. This corset has the usual lacing up the back, but unlike some others, it doesn’t open in the front. So the only way to get it on was over my head. Unfortunately, it was a size small. I’m flattered, but it was too small. I may be thin, but I’m tall and I have wide shoulders. So, the wrestling began. I was determined to wear it tonight anyway.

ST loosened the lacing as much as possible, and then I pulled it over my head. I stood with my arms straight up while ST yanked and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. He managed to get it loosened just a bit more, then tugged down on it, tugging and tugging (and cracking me up with his grunting noises) until finally it went down past my shoulders and over my torso. Then he tightened the lacing. There was a several-inch gap when it was pulled as tight as he could get it, but it still looked spectacular.

And then the fishnet stockings! Those fit perfectly, and I recruited ST to snap the garters in place for me (those were rather uncooperative and took several attempts). But at last, I slipped on some heels, and voila:

Isn’t it lovely? That was worth the work to get it on me! I feared I wouldn’t be able to get it back off, but we put that aside for the time being. After all, we had other things to do.

We kept it simple tonight, implement-wise. Of course, we had to use the heart-shaped paddle that he made for me last Valentine’s Day. He also wanted to draw hearts on my bottom with eyeliner or a Sharpie and then fill them in with reddened flesh, but I nixed that idea. (insert eye-roll here) Along with the paddle, just a couple of his straps plus the leather spanking buddy. No canes tonight. And mostly OTK, although I took a fair amount of strapping while bending over/kneeling on the bed.

You know why he was spanking me? Because I was wearing naughty clothes. “You bought me those naughty clothes!” I protested. “Yes, but you didn’t have to wear them! I was just testing you!” Oh, brother.

Not much banter tonight, once I settled down and stopped giggling. I felt sexy and sensual and my body relished every stroke deeply. I went so far into subspace, he didn’t even ask me to count the final flurry. He knew I wouldn’t be able to.

Bliss. ♥

Of course, once we wound down and had uploaded the photos from his camera, it was time for Operation Remove Corset. It was actually a little easier than it had been getting it on; he loosened the ties, had me raise my arms over my head and then he yanked upward. Yank-yank-yank, and then it gave way and popped off. He’s going to take it back and exchange it for a medium. (OK, so I wore it a couple of hours. Sue me. :-Þ I was freshly showered!)

I had a little heart-shaped box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates for him, which I gave him as he was leaving. Sweets for a very sweet man.

To everyone who celebrates it, happy Valentine’s Day. For those who would just as soon bypass it, happy Tuesday. I’m going to spend my afternoon squirming in the dentist’s chair, and making him wonder why I’m smiling. 🙂

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