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 “scene negotiation”

Okay, so flexibility isn’t all bad…

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote this post about trying to get together with a new potential play partner, and how he’d issued a last-minute invitation that I had to turn down. We left it that he would contact me after he was back from a two-week vacation and we’d try again. I assumed this try would be a bit more planned.

Then this past Monday afternoon I got a text from him, essentially saying that a Tuesday late morning meeting had been canceled and he could come to my place for a couple of hours; sorry for the last-minute notice but could I swing it?

Oy.

Have I mentioned I really suck at spontaneity? My first reaction to it is always to be rattled. Fortunately, because it was a text, I had some time to think about it. Last time, I said no, because I had legitimate reasons to do so — a lot of work, stressed out over car problems, etc. However, this time, work was under control, car was fine, my place was reasonably tidy, and I really had no reason to say no. And if I kept saying no, eventually he was going to stop asking.

I texted back and said that I had really hoped our first time wouldn’t be last-minute and rushed. And he replied, “My whole life is last-minute and rushed, but I understand and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We can try for something next week. Or we can get together tomorrow and just talk about limits and so on, if you prefer.” And with that, I I knew I was going to say yes, come on over. I mean, he was being so nice and trying to work with me; the least I could do was attempt to meet him halfway.

Yesterday I got up early (well, early for me, 8:00 a.m.), got dressed and ready, and settled in to work until I got a text from him saying he was on his way. He was already forewarned about the horrible parking on my street. When he arrived, we sat and talked for about an hour. As he’d mentioned before, he had played many times in the past, but hadn’t for quite a while, so he was open to any guidance. I didn’t want to bombard him with too many limits and preferences at the outset, so I gave him the two immediate hard limits: 1. scolding is okay, but no name-calling/berating. I don’t do the degradation thing; and 2. stay the hell away from the back door. As for tips, just a couple: cup your hand to the bottom cheek, so you get a crisp smack instead of a dull thud, and make sure to give each cheek equal time. “You’d be surprised to know how many right-handed tops are constitutionally incapable of spanking a left cheek,” I added.

And so we played! Turns out he’s ambidextrous, so he can use both hands equally well. (groan) He’s a big guy (6′ 4″) and has the big strong hands one would expect to go with his height. We didn’t use any implements this first time, but he sure as hell didn’t need any. He built up slowly, getting a feel for things, and I was delighted and giggly at how good it felt. I mean, you never know with someone until you’re actually in the position and it’s happening. It’s like a first anything — first kiss, first sex, etc. But I was quite pleased.

Oh, and he really took to heart the bit about giving the left cheek equal attention. At one point, he was whaling on that one cheek over and over and over until I finally blurted, “For fuck’s sake, I’ve got two of them!” He laughed and said, “Well, you said…” Yeah, I said. Me and my big mouth.

Here’s the best news — the scene was good enough for me to slip into my zone, that realm of spaciness where I just feel, bury my face and make noises, stop thinking. I knew I was toast when he asked if I needed a break, and I mumbled, “I don’t know… you decide.” So he went a while longer and then he chose when to end things, which is exactly the way I like it. Even better… I think (I hope!) he enjoyed himself as much as I did. He was very complimentary.

We talked a bit about our opposite personalities — me being a planner and a scheduler and him being one whose schedule was always in flux — and he said he appreciated that I’d stepped out of my comfort zone and accepted this play date with little notice. Hopefully we could plan things out a bit better in the future. At least he knows where I’m coming from, so we’ll see how this goes.

After he left, a little after noon, I had work and workout facing me and I didn’t feel like doing any of it, I was so spacey. However, after some coffee and food, I perked up, got a second wind, and I ended up doing a killer workout and getting all my work done. Slept like the dead last night! Today I have some deep muscle soreness, but I’m not marked, except for one small blotch in the center of my left cheek and a few speckles underneath the right one. Perhaps last week we got into implements too soon? Who knows. Sorry, didn’t get any pictures. Maybe next time.

In summation — yesterday, a FetLife friend asked, “Isn’t it so great to fucking play again??!”

Yes. Oh, yes indeed, it fucking well is. ā™„

Another Curious Cat question (plus some Spanking 101)

I enjoy the Curious Cat app where people can anonymously ask others questions. Sometimes, I get some really interesting, thought-provoking stuff. (Other times, not so much. But I digress.) Last week, I received this question:

When my husband paddles my bottom, he likes to constantly change the speed, location, and hardness of the whacks. He says he does that to hold my attention. I say no fair. What do you think?

Wellllllllll… you’re gonna hate me for this, honey. And I’ll agree, it’s not fair. But count your blessings with this one. At least your husband is trying to keep it stimulating and varied. Do you really need to know everything that’s coming, down to every last swat? (Honestly, I don’t. I like the element of surprise in my play — keeps it interesting.) I mean, would you really want what I call a “metronome spanking”?

metronome

For those who never had endless music lessons, a metronome is a device that keeps time and tempo. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Therefore, a metronome spanking is repetitive. Back and forth. Back and forth. Right. Left. Right. Left. Over and over and over. Same spot. Same tempo. Same intensity. Same…. Zzzzzzz.

If you ever find yourself on the receiving end of one of these, I suggest you grab the nearest reading material. Perhaps mentally plan your grocery list. Or find a patch of wet paint and watch it dry. Because a metronome spanking is a total. Fucking. BORE.

And there’s really no excuse for a spanking to be boring. All it takes is a little imagination. Change it up a bit. It’s not that difficult. Use different speeds and strengths. Maybe a flurry on one side, then the other, instead of the usual back and forth. And for heaven’s sake, don’t hit the same central spot on each cheek over and over. Move it around.

Yeah, I know — that part gets a bit scary. There are many spots to avoid. You don’t want to hit too high, and you don’t want to wrap out to the sides. But the butt has plenty of real estate, even ones on the smaller side like mine. You can vary the coverage greatly and keep your bottom guessing.

And yes, there is the territory directly under the butt — the sweet spot, AKA the sit spot. The place you feel when you sit the next day. How far down that goes is up to the individual players. Some people keep it to just an inch or so, the juncture where ass connects to thigh. Others wander down a bit, covering upper thighs. This is where it gets tricky. Generally, this hurts a lot more, and you can probably use a lighter smack there. And the lower you go, the more painful it tends to be. I daresay that if you strike someone’s mid-thigh as hard as you strike their bottom, you might get your eardrums blown out with their scream. So do use some common sense.

I would say this picture represents good full bottom coverage. Notice it doesn’t go too far out to the sides, no wrapping around the hip. And how even it is.

20171212_115419

And if it goes a bit further below the butt, that’s acceptable too. Again, know your play partner.

I’m not going to get into hitting other places. Because — to me — that isn’t spanking. Slapping breasts and genitals? Not spanking. Caning calves? Not spanking. I don’t like being struck anywhere but on the butt and upper-upper thighs, but to each their own. Many years ago, I was in the middle of a scene with a partner who usually could read my body like a book. But for whatever reason that night, he had a brain freeze and decided to strike the soles of my bare feet with something or another. Yeah… I came this close to ending the scene. I also came this close to kicking backward and launching his sinuses out the back of his head. Don’t hit stuff that usually isn’t hit unless you have a partner’s consent! I’m not saying “No edge play.” I’m just saying don’t spring it on someone unless you know they welcome that sort of thing. Or are at least open to it.

I have a love/hate thing with upper thigh spanking. Being spanked on the sweet spot is intense and I do like the feeling of it when I’m sitting later. But going further down can mark like hell and I am ambivalent about it. Sometimes I think it’s hot and other times the marks horrify me. I suppose, for me, a little of it goes a long way.

Perhaps it’s summed up best to say I don’t always want to look like this. Maybe once in a while, from someone I trust. And with a lot of aftercare.

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twodays

(The second picture was taken two days after a thigh-intensive spanking. Note that my bottom is completely pristine, while my thighs retained the impression a lot longer.)

So to my anonymous Curious Cat friend, forgive me. But please do go give your husband a hug and a kiss. Because as dastardly as he is, trust me — a spanking that keeps you guessing is much better than one that puts you to sleep. šŸ˜‰

Both sides of a protocol

Recently on FetLife, a friend posted about her scene protocol, and how much it annoys and baffles her when people disregard it or complain about it. She is part of a couple, and while she can play with anyone she chooses, she has one request: If anyone contacts her for play, she’d like them to drop a brief note to her dominant as well. It doesn’t have to be a multi-page epic; it doesn’t have to be a massive form providing his blood type and his mother’s maiden name. Just a littleĀ note of introduction, out of respect for her top, to acknowledge his existence.

Seems pretty simple, doesn’t it? And yet, according to her writing earlier, people give her grief about this. They don’t want to bother with that step; it’s too much of a hassle. And then they have the nerve to get bent out of shape when she says she’s sorry, but if they aren’t willing to do this little thing, then she isn’t willing to play with them.

You know, this thing we do is (or should be) about consent and respect. Everyone has limits. Everyone has personal rules. And it doesn’t matter a damn if their protocols aren’t your protocols. You don’t have to agree with them, or subscribe to them. You simply have to respect them, per the individual. If they aren’t to your liking, then you don’t have to play with that person.

Why is that so @#$%ing hard for some people to comprehend? Especially a request like this, which is so very common in the D/s world. Subs/bottoms often have potential play partners contact their doms/tops. Or ask them first at a party, before asking the bottom to play. Why would anyone resent that or bitch about it?

Today, I posted a comment on this lovely woman’s writing: “I’m not sure what the debate is about. My ass, my rules. Does that make it simpler?” She appreciated that; she commented after me: “So. Much. That.” šŸ™‚

Me? I deal with the flip side of that protocol, and for me, it’s equally as frustrating and annoying.

See, I do not require anyone to check in with John before I play with them. That is simply not my dynamic. So it kind of tweaks me when some tops assume I do have that sort of dynamic, because, well, don’t all bottoms?? (sigh) Or the ones who assume that John speaks for me, because he does not. Just because I identify asĀ a bottom does not mean I identify asĀ a submissive or a slave. Stop putting us all in the same box.

Frequently at parties, John has had men approach him and ask if it’s OK if they play with me. John will smile, shrug and reply, “I dunno… ask her?” OK, so they’re being cautious. I get that. But my rebellious and sassy spirit kind of resents the assumption nonetheless. I do not need John’s permission for anything. Still, when it comes to a simple matter of play, I guess it’s innocuous.

But here’s an example of protocol assumption that really pissed me off. Many years ago, a gentleman who is quite well known in the BDSM world came to his first Shadow Lane party. At spanking party weekends, there’s a sort of unspoken etiquette about Friday nights, the first of three or four days of play: Don’t play too hard with a bottom that night. She has a lot more spanking ahead of her, so it’s better to err on the side of caution, go a little lighter, save the heavier stuff for later in the weekend. In other words, don’t trash a bottom’s backsideĀ all to hell right out of the gate.

This guy clearly wasn’t aware of this… and he whaled the hell out of me with a wooden hairbrush, on Friday night at the vendor fair. I had immediate white spots, which morphed into purple splotches. Not good. People around us watching looked shocked. John immediately ran to get an ice pack and was following me around the ballroom, pressing it to my butt. By the next day, I had bruises.

I guess the guy must have heard from others that what he had done was a bit of a faux pas. Because the next day, he offered a sincere and contrite apology.

To John.

That’s right. He sought John out specifically, and said, “I’m sorry I marked your subĀ so early in a spanking party weekend. I didn’t realize that wasn’t OK, and I didn’t mean to.” Um, what? He hit me. He bruised me. And he apologizes to my boyfriend?? WTF?

Yeah, I know. D/s protocol. But use a little common sense, for God’s sake. Give a direct apology to the wounded party! John, bless his heart, calmly told him, “I appreciate that, man, but don’t tell me. Tell her.”

To his credit, he came to me next and apologized. Multiple times. And again after the party weekend in an email. I did appreciate it, and I never revealed who he was or what had happened in any blog or party report. (And I still won’t.) But I still think about it and shake my head. What kind of weird-ass protocol is it that you injure a bottom and you apologize to her top by proxy? It’s not hisĀ butt! (sigh again)

So, I guess it comes down to this once again: Everyone is different; all players aren’t formed from the same cookie cutter. We all have different protocols, preferences, priorities. Different parties have different rules. When negotiating the playing field (which can often be a minefield), get a feel for who you’re dealing with, and what kind of gathering you’re attending. Ask questions, pay attention, and Be. Respectful.

Oh, and despite the fact that it seems to be so damned uncommon these days, do try that common sense thing. šŸ˜‰

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