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 “Samantha Woodley”

Tonight’s Lesson: Watch My @#$%ing Language

New Guy showed up on the dot of 6:30 (have I mentioned lately that I love how on-time and utterly reliable this man is?), and although we did make with some small-talk about the Oscars (gawd, didn’t James Franco suck?), it wasn’t long before I was horizontal and face down.

You know how sometimes you’re more sensitive than other times to pain? Tonight was my night. At least that’s how it started out; it took me longer than usual to warm up and adjust. Unfortunately, he felt the warmup should be short. Short? Try practically non-existent! :-Þ

So can you blame a girl for blurting out a couple of cuss words? I mean, come on. It hurts, for God’s sake. But he thought it was very unladylike of me and we soon dispensed with the OTK and went right for the ottoman. Once I’m moved onto there, I know he means business.

Ow. Paddle, strap, flogger and this nasty biting thing I later found out was a quirt with three tails. He switched up the count thing — this time, I had to count AND spell. Spell what, you ask? I’d said the f-bomb once and damn twice. So the count went along these lines: “One, f, two, u, three, c, four, k, five, d, six, a…” and so on.

(but no, I didn’t have to say I was sore-y. Snicker)

You’d think with all those implements and my seemingly reduced tolerance, I would have been eager to have it done, right? But when he leaned down and asked, “Is it time for me to get the lotion?” I hesitated. I didn’t want to say anything sassy; I was past that. But I didn’t want him to stop, either. I turned my head and looked up at him, and he waited patiently, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

“I think… I… um… I think I…”

“Yes?”

“I think I need a little bit more,” I whispered. (Why is it so hard for me to do that? Ah well, it just is. I did it anyway.)

So he finished me with a hard strapping, and then I was done. Well, for the moment, anyway. Aftercare was sweet, as always.

After I recovered, we moved to the couch and I put on a DVD. I have so many of them he hasn’t seen, and he loves Samantha Woodley (who doesn’t, really?), so I chose Sting Operation, Part 2. She was at her absolute bratty best in this one, playing a student who cheated by downloading a paper off the Internet and then got caught by her teacher. She kicked, she fussed, she was defiant, and of course, I was cheering for her. New Guy? Eh, notsomuch.

We’d been sitting side by side, but when Samantha pinched the teacher’s leg, I laughed and said, “Hey, I’ll have to remember that!” — and whoooooosh, over I went again. And there I stayed for the rest of the freaking DVD. When she got smacked, I got smacked. When she got the paddle, I got the paddle. And guess what?? I had totally forgotten about this, because I haven’t seen this DVD for a while, but… She calls him a bastard, and he makes her spell it out to him while he whacks her with the paddle. How funny, considering that NG had made me do the exact same thing earlier.

I pointed out to NG that she said bastard, I didn’t say bastard. But he didn’t care. Argggghhhh. OK, fine! I figured I get it whether I cuss or I don’t cuss, so what’s the difference? Soooooo… when she said my favorite line in the whole DVD: “I said I was sorry! So forgive and forget, and f*** off!”…yup,  I said it along with her. 😀

Professor Lance finally let Samantha up — however, NG said, “You stay right where you are.” So much for following the video. The second spanking of the evening continued long past the end of the DVD, and after one hard flurry, I breathed, “Jesus!”

I felt him freeze, and I screeched, “That’s not cussing, that’s not cussing!” He said, “Yes, it is.” I got so frustrated, I lost my head. Again.

“It is NOT! It would be one thing if I’d said ‘Jesus f***ing Christ,’ but I didn’t!”

I am such an idiot. Yes, I had to spell out all three words, 18 whacks.

Someday, I’ll learn. Or not.

But you know that edgy, crabby, unsettled mood I mentioned last Friday? No sign of it now. Whaddaya know. Who needs Xanax when you have a spanker extraordinaire?

T – h – a – n – k    y – o – u. 🙂

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