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 “play partners”

If at first you don’t succeed…

… fuck it up one more time. Oh wait, that’s not how it goes. Well, something like that. Keep trying, in other words. Eventually, hopefully, something will happen.

So earlier this week, I got a message from a guy on FetLife. Local, wrote a nice note, interesting in spanking. Also tickling, which is not my thing. But I figured since he was polite, I’d be polite back, and wrote my own nice note in return. Figured that was it, but he kept writing, so we exchanged a few messages.

I thought, maybe? Who knows. He seemed smart and interesting. But a couple of things were bothering me. One, he had no profile filled out, only a lot of different quotes. He had no pictures of himself, only one of his arm. And he wrote in slash/speak.

For those who aren’t familiar, it’s a D/s protocol. The dominants refer to themselves in upper case, and the subs in lower case. The dominant will write Me and My and so forth capitalized, whereas the sub writes their name in lower case, “i” in lower case, etc. And if they are talking about both people? Slashes. W/we. O/our. Etc.

If, and I mean IF, you are in a relationship with that dynamic, and both parties are good with it, it’s fine. But if you’re talking to a stranger who doesn’t necessarily subscribe to that protocol, you shouldn’t assume to use it. It’s annoying and distracting, and comes off as arrogant and pretentious to someone like me who isn’t into it.

So I kidded him about it. He said I was bratting (which I was). Meanwhile, we had established that our schedules were opposite, we lived far from each other, I hate phone calls and he hates texting. It wasn’t looking good. But you know, desperate times. I tried one more time. I said that I’m a writer/editor, and it offends my sensibilities to see otherwise good writing hacked up with a bunch of slashes and unnecessary capitalizations, or improper lower casing. That I don’t respect capital letters; I respect people. And I added a smiley face to soften it.

On Thursday night, he wrote back. One portion read, “I don’t care what you think about capitalization, little one. Deal with it.” He added a winky face. It didn’t help. All that resonated was “I don’t care what you think.” And at this point, I was a stranger. I was not his “little one.” I was done.

I wrote a polite note back, saying that I didn’t think we were compatible, there were too many differences in what we seek, but I wished him luck and thanked him for the outreach.

His last communication to me read: “Very well, young lady. I’m not one to jump through hoops nor am I one to change My ways just to get into a lovely woman’s panties. Be good.” Sheesh. At least he didn’t call me a girl.

However, this mini-saga has a good ending. I was so damn frustrated after three days of wasting time with this exchange, and left at square one once again. I was sick to death of all work and no play. So I got up my nerve, and contacted someone I’ve known for some time, who is local, but so far we have only played with each other at 50 Freaks and Shadow Lane. And every time we do, we have a great time, and say “We should get together in L.A.!” and then promptly forget about it until the next party. I decided to put myself out there and ask him if he wanted to play.

I wrote a nice message, saying that I was dealing with a dearth of play lately, and while I didn’t have the time or desire to go through the whole vetting process of finding a new play partner, it sure would be fun if I had a local friend with whom I could get together, hang out and play when it suited our busy schedules. I said that he and I had already played, we knew we had good chemistry, the trust factor had already been established, so this could be mutually beneficial. What were his thoughts on making this happen?

Within minutes, he replied. “My thoughts? Count me in! When are you available?”

So, long story short, he’s coming over this Tuesday afternoon. I am slam-jammed with work and truth be told, I am not available, but screw it. I need this. My mental and emotional health need this. I’ll get the work done somehow, and if I skip the gym, screw that too. My body needs a different kind of workout right now. 😀

I guess I should thank Mr. Slash/Speak. If I hadn’t had the encounter with him, I don’t think I would have had the frustration-fueled nerve to put myself out to this other man.

Fingers crossed that it doesn’t fall through. Wish me luck.

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?

20180316_130826

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.

Reflections on relationships

Next week, on Thursday, John and I will be together for twenty-two years. On Friday, we will head for yet another Shadow Lane party. That’s sort of become our anniversary celebration. I will be very busy for the next week or so, so I figured I’d squeeze in a post here so y’all won’t think I’ve disappeared.

John and I never married, and we don’t live together. And yet we have been through so much in our years. Countless laughs, many tears. Many of life’s passages, including the losses of both our parents, job losses/transitions, and an illness and open heart surgery that nearly took him from me. When I first met him, he was living in an apartment; now he owns two homes. We’ve shared so many things, so many events. To this day, he still makes me laugh like no other. To this day, no one knows me better than he does.

We love each other. ♥

Here is the part that continually baffles me. I must be doing something right, being able to maintain this relationship for so long. And yet, it seems I cannot keep any other kind of relationship for any length of time. Friends, play partners, etc. They come into my life, they exit. Sometimes the exits are dramatic, sometimes they just fade out. Sometimes they ghost. Sometimes, they’re still there, but otherwise preoccupied. Online, I have several people who enjoy communicating with me. People who don’t even know me send me beautiful words like these:

I’m writing to make sure you understand that there are many, many people out there just like me who appreciate and admire you. You may not know this, but you’ve been an inspiration to so many of us, with your blog, with the films you’ve been in, with your humor and honesty. With your politics. Also, if you’ll forgive me, your incredibly spankable bottom. 🙂

The above is real, and it moved me to tears. But if I’m this wonderful, why don’t people stay?

And for those who are wondering who I’m talking about — please don’t. This post is cumulative. This post is, sadly, about many.

Is this just the nature of today’s relationships? Are we all so busy, so distracted, so caught up in social media and work and life’s constant barrage of insanity that we don’t have time to invest in lasting closeness? Are we torn in too many different directions? The irony is that in today’s age, it’s easier than ever to connect to people. You don’t even have to go anywhere. You can Skype, you can text, you can email. You don’t even have to talk on the phone if you don’t want to (and I don’t). It takes mere seconds to fire off a text to someone. A “Hi, really busy, but thinking of you,” or “Hi, just wanted to say I love you.” And yet, we’re more disconnected than ever.

Or is it that I’m a fatally flawed human who can’t keep people in my immediate circle? Am I not interesting enough, in person? Fun enough? Kinky enough? Available enough? Are John and I together this long because we’re both social square pegs and birds of a feather and all that?

Because I am an introvert and somewhat reclusive, it’s true I don’t open my heart to many. I don’t have the time or patience for acquaintances and small talk. But when I do open that door, it is fully open; I am loving, supportive, deeply loyal. Lately, I’m beginning to wonder if I should simply seal my heart away for good. Because there isn’t much of it left. Over the years, so many people have come in, taken what they needed, and left the rest behind. I’m getting too old for this shit.

So, another party. The sweet torture of being thrust into three days of noise and crowds, feeling overwhelmed, and talking more in those three days than I do in six months — and yet loving it because I’m among my people. Because I can play to my heart’s content. As seems to be the case every damn time now, I haven’t been spanked for a couple of months, so I’m feeling out of condition and worried that the play will be too much for me. And of course, then there’s the other part of me that’s afraid the people I want to play with, won’t want to play with me. But I’ve gone through the proper motions. I bought new panties and a couple of new dresses. I will get my hair cut, get a pedicure. Fake it till you make it (although I detest that expression).

My heart is not in it right now. But I will take my body into it, and hopefully my heart and spirit and joyous spanko side will follow. I will have my beloved with me. The man who has stayed.

Enough of that. Work has gotten busy again, for which I am grateful. Sorry I’ve been MIA.  For those who want to see pictures, here ya go. My new panties.

20180816_153648

And here’s a butt shot from a few months ago. No, I haven’t let myself go and disappeared into a vat of bonbons. I’m too fucking vain for that. :-Þ

20171212_115429

Part of me thinks it may have been a mistake to start this blog up again, but I’m not going to make another dramatic exit. I will write when time allows and when the spirit moves me. When I have something to say.

Until then, have a good weekend, y’all. And be kind to each other.

Ladies and gentlemen, my play partner

OK, so enough of this depression crap for a while. Time for fun.

Back in September 2016, in my Shadow Lane party write-up, I spoke of playing with Ulf Sayer for the first time. I had met him at a previous party and felt an immediate connection, but we didn’t have the chance to play at that time. This first scene was intense and fun; he enjoys clever bratting and I started in right away, calling him a hockey puck (he is Canadian).

Oh, and I assed his hand. 🙂

He was doing videos and so forth and I thought perhaps we’d be seeing a lot more of him, but then he left the scene for a while.

Cut to last March, when I heard from him via Twitter Direct Message. He was now living in L.A. and would love to touch base. We met for coffee and talked for hours. Started texting. Then he came over for coffee… and asked if I’d like to be play partners. Oh, yes, I would. He wasn’t ready to ease his way back into the scene proper just yet, so I promised I would not mention him by name anywhere. I would just post pictures of play results.

But now he is fully returned — back on FetLife, back on Twitter, shooting again, attending parties, and I have the green light to talk about him all I want.

So what does one say about Ulf? By his own admission, he is a very silly man. Very playful, loves spanking banter. Smart and thoughtful, he’s someone I can talk with for hours (and have). He is caring and kind. Oh, and it’s way too damn easy to get into protracted nonsensical battles with him online.

For example, a while back on FetLife, he noticed that several bottoms (myself included) feel that they have earned chocolate, ice cream or other treats after a spanking. He then decreed that “brats don’t deserve treats, they deserve a spanking and nothing else” and that treats were forever banned.

Yeah, you can imagine how well that went over with the bottoms on FetLife. This quickly escalated into an epic battle known as the #WarOnTreats, #TreatsForAll, and several other hashtags. Pictures and posts ensued. Everyone talked about the various treats they had purchased and were consuming, and Ulf would scold and natter about how we should learn to like vegetables and how all the treat monsters were going to be punished.

Here he is chastising me because I bought two bags of Hershey’s dark chocolate almond nuggets. Hey, I had a two-for-one coupon. I thought I was being industrious with savings.

20180620_132139

One of my responses to this insanity was to encourage all the women involved on FetLife to take a selfie eating a treat and flipping the bird. I started the ball rolling with this one (that’s a Lindt truffle, BTW):

20180617_215008

I wish I could post all the other pictures this inspired — they were marvelous. The sisterhood is still alive and well!

Of course, I had to pay the price for encouraging all this anarchy; he had to make an example of me, in the hardest scene we’ve done to date. Ouch.

20180620_140507

By the way, my left butt cheek isn’t dented. That’s an illusion of the lamp light. I got lotion and cuddles afterward; he bought me lunch, too.

And I’m still assing his hand.

20180703_160013

Perhaps he needs to toughen his hand more instead of having so damn many implements.

20180517_145028

I did not make this face of my own volition, incidentally. I believe his words were, “Come on, let’s see that tongue, brat.”

So this is my play partner. I don’t call him my top, even though I am a bottom and he tops me. He’s my friend and we play. I saw a term on another blog that I kinda liked: SSO (Spanking Significant Other). I think this needs to be a Thing.

Here are a few random facts about Ulf:

  • He can’t spell “fascist.”
  • He has forbidden treats for bottoms, but he indulges in them himself. I have pictorial evidence of this pinnacle of Top Hypocrisy.
  • If you follow him on Twitter, be forewarned that his tweeting persona is often irreverent, blasphemous, and off-color. Then again, so is mine.
  • Some of his nicknames are Olaf, Snowman, Your Plaidness (the Canada thing), and Ulfiekins. I came up with that last one.
  • Oh, and he’s cute AF, but don’t tell him I said that.

So everyone welcome him back to the kinky family. He was missed greatly. ♥

A brief update

Just a quickie on Sunday night before a busy week. I’m not bursting with news, just wanted to pop in and update on three things.

First, regarding the situation I mentioned at the party a couple of weeks ago, on the last night — all was resolved, in the nicest possible way. It was handled reasonably, compassionately, and I even seem to have made a new friend over it. Rather than hold me in contempt, the parties involved were actually concerned and caring that I’d been upset, and we talked it out. I wish everyone could be this pleasant. So that’s a relief.

Second… I suppose I need to say something about the fact that I haven’t posted about Steve in several months. No, he did not leave the relationship. He always said he wouldn’t, and he was true to his word. However, we have not played for over four months, and the only thing I’m willing to give as an explanation at this time is that we have irreconcilable differences. It makes me sad, and I miss what we had. I’d been with him a little over four years — longer than I was with ST and even my beloved Danny. And I certainly miss having regular play. But honestly, my life is different these days. I’m spending a lot more hours working (which is a good thing), and I don’t have the play time I used to. And being busy with work keeps me productively occupied, rather than spending time ruminating online over the state of the country. So. I hope there will come a day when I have local play again. But for now, it’s not happening.

Finally, I had expressed frustration that I’d gotten so few pictures at the party, and one of my readers pleaded for me to take pictures of the lingerie I wore on Purple Night. So, Friday, I dusted off my old-school digital camera, set up the timer and took some shots. (I’m just not that good with phone selfies.) Hope you like ’em! 😉

DSC00010

DSC00003

Would you believe Target? Yeah, Victoria’s Secret has some really nice stuff, but good Christ, they’re expensive. And I’ve always liked Target. For those poor narrow-minded folks out there with misguided phobias who are boycotting Target over their bathroom policies — go right ahead! More for the rest of us!

Hope everyone is well out there. Please drop by and say hello!

At long last…

…play. Finally. It’s been a while.

Steve and I celebrated our four-year play partner anniversary yesterday. It occurred to me that he has now been my top longer than any other I’ve had in my twenty years of playing. (I don’t count John in that number, as he occupies a completely different place.) Steve always told me he wasn’t going anywhere. It took me a long time, but now I believe him.

He showed up with a small chocolate cake and a card (I had a card for him as well), and then we went out for a late breakfast in one of my favorite local spots where they specialize in breakfasts (waffles, in particular). It had cooled down enough so that we could sit outside and enjoy the patio area with a pretty fountain, and we even had a table in the shade. After a lovely meal (I got to have two kinds of homemade jam for my toast), we came back to my place and played.

Ah. It was worth the wait. 🙂

It was nice to take a short break from the insanity that’s been my life lately and stop thinking… just feel. Just immerse myself in pleasure-pain and have the world dwindle down to nothing but me and my top, in the moment.

Steve had no camera with him, just his cell, so our pictures aren’t the greatest of quality. But it sure is nice to have some new ones.

Love love love our crop!

20160802_125827

Ah, so ladylike am I…

20160802_130338

Since my work week isn’t quite as hectic, I’m going to treat myself to a couple of hours off, and some retail therapy. The Shadow Lane party is in a few weeks — new panties are in order! Perhaps a cute summer dress or two as well. Happy hump day!

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: